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Coffee With a Mountain

This is how I imagine a conversation with a Mountain would go...
I crest the top of the mountain and drop my pack on the ground. I settle in a cleft between two jutting rocks and pull out my little one-burner stove. The flame stutters in the wind, so I cup my hands around it to shelter the heat like a baby bird. Once it is burning bright, I add my pot with instant coffee and water. The rocky ridges surrounding me are crisp and bright in the sun. I can see wispy white clouds rifling over the peaks in the startling blue sky. Then, I feel a slight trimmer from the mountain below me, like a cough building deep in its chest. The pebbles and shale seem to hum with energy as the rumble grows. Then it is here, the heart of the mountain.  I can see it and not see it at the same time. A presence is obviously here, in front of me, but it is more like a collection of energy hanging in the air than something of skin and bone. Features flit in and out of focus as I turn my head to look at it from the …

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