A Sermon on the Mount                                     

            From where we started,
            Dogs on our heels,
            It was a beacon of convergence,
            Remote and certain as geometry

            Now its slant imposed
            A levy on our musculature and will

            Our pack grew quieter, less attached,
            The several bent on speed
            Lost or invisible, the rest of us
            Simply watching our step

            When you drew me away from the others
            To that unsheltered cleft facing back,
            Was it for the view –

            Below so lush, the snakelike valley,
            So pacific from above,
            Enough to make us forget why we left –

            Or for your angle 
            On the phantom pleasure,
            As the cold set in, 
            Of arms


            Emanuel E. García, 2014