Charles Finn sings the glory of the high country in this excerpt from his poem “Church Was,” which appears in Deep Wild: Writing from the Backcountry, just published this week.
“Church was the shallow river like glass and the night’s highborn clouds wrapped around their mountains like lovers. It was the mountains disrobing, taking off their clouds, unashamed. Church was the frost bit meadow, the outstretched arms of the pines incensing the air, the high priest of moose who came to drink with heads submerged, to raise them like fountains…”
(Photo by Barbara Michelman)