No Farallons today, in fog
you go up, pine to disappearing pine
(scraggly, and mossy more than needled)
'til at last the trail levels out, and
surely this is it: The End of the World,
a knife-ridge path to a little peak
mist-blown and mystery-beconing;
so try that narrow teetery track--
But it's not the last, there's another and another,
out over the invisible ocean
(just a jade sliver of waves, way way down).
