he circles the base of the mountain, winding an arc—
searching for a place to begin, discarding
geometric ideals for hard geography
the need to climb surmounting worry
about coming back safe, in one piece, untouched
to life, marriage, kids, job (loss)
hoping life is more than a map
on a page he can read; some metaphor
he steps over unseen lines, knowing
trail heads deliver more than he expects:
that his questions will soon be swallowed
whole (their disappearance hinging
on his own appearance)