Hail, Mountain of Granite
plateau of a thousand lakes
birthplace of the goddess
womb of mystery and wildness

I come as one who sits on the hedge
watcher of both ravens and ranches
columbines and cancer
marmots and methamphetamines

Boundary destroyer, creator, and dweller
One who moves betwixt and between the
two worlds

The old twisted Spruce glances
down at me, amused, a curious
glint in her eye, replies

“which two worlds?”

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