At Devils Tower with the Boys

This is a holy place of ringing stone
thrust upward into space,
like a hand raised in prayer,
and I would make a pilgrimage here,
to experience something of the thinness
between worlds
and to feel the presence of the Ancient,

except that I am charged with watching
these eager boys as they climb the slope,
bounding from boulder to boulder;
they believe with a blessed naiveté
that they can conquer the tower
and still they startle at imaginary rattlesnakes.

If I cannot pause to wonder here;
if I cannot divide my attention
between my charges and myself
then I must return.