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Kyle Vaughn

June, Huron Peak

Scaled to reach thin air to be

lighter than my loss. Found

just another sun-facing grief,

remnants of snowpack, some lichen

and sedges and mostly stones.

Even far from desire, I couldn’t

fall deaf to music’s golden work,

how your laugh rose so pure.

Even above the treeline, still

I would climb. And yet

there is that bird up there,

even higher. Whatever he lost

must be all the sky.