Half-Dome


Even adamantine edifices of rock
erode, the soft wind and rain
corrode first the charming dimple
then seep in the wrinkle and rut.
The smoothest surface bears the incision
of storm’s pitons, and with burnished grips
the sheerest plane can be climbed.
How soft the tune of everlasting.
Water sings, and rock sways.

By Jeff Burt