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Meditation on West Maroon Pass
10,432 feet I reach the miner’s ruined cabin, Each year more like a stack of weathered timber Sinking from sight in the grass. Around the bend, the scene: Alpine Whiproot arcs from green, gentians spear The sun, and, above me, the pass. Here dwarf hawksbeard still lurks and sparks. Lilies and bluebells burn, where willow…