This Ol' Mug

One of my earliest recorded poems. I wrote this one morning while working as a wrangler on a ranch deep in the San Juan Mountains in Colorado. I've never seen such beautiful solitude since, nor as many stars.

I woke up this morning
And couldn’t believe what I saw –
A hundred billion stars
stretching from one side of the valley
to the other.
Man, I thought,
that’s a lot of mugs!

The sun crept up over coffee,
over mountain peaks.
The steam from my cup
blinded me
as the mist lifted in the fields.

An eagle screamed
and because it was still early
the sound of his voice
went on and on and on.
I thought,
I could die in a place where eagle’s scream.

And I’d be happy,
happy as a mug.

09.04