Another bright day
clear and cold

as the sunlight
is warm—

Not to be begrudge
this reciprocity

or any—
I get giddy

climbing these
impossible hills

fully blinded,
imbued by this

particular winter
sun, always

coming in
at high unexpected

angles and intervals,
falling in bars

or like some ornate
curtain to make

any scene pastoral—
orderly, quiet, serene,

immutable—
if only for a few hours,

still, more than
acceptable