I glance at her, pensive.
Hands shoved deep in my pockets, I say
“But if I go there . . .
I don’t know anybody. And it’s flat,
what about the mountains?”
She gazes intently at her shoes as we walk
together in the sunshine.
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to kick up some dust –
make your own mountains.”
She grins at me, quite pleased with her answer –
no hint of doubt in my ability
to construct such a monstrosity. Because of course
it takes no more faith to build a mountain
than to move it.