On the short road from Hosteria La Cienega back to the Pan-American Highway, we came upon a lovely, wide view of the Cotopaxi volcano. Throughout the day, Cotopaxi's snow-capped peak had been hidden mostly behind clouds, with occasional quick glimpses of the snow line.
But the mountain still had such a presence for us. It reminded me of Denise Levertov's wonderful poem, "Witness," which she wrote about another volcano: Mount Rainier in Washington.
Sometimes the mountain
is hidden from me in veils
of cloud, sometimes
I am hidden from the mountain
in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,
when I forget or refuse to go
down to the shore or a few yards
up the road, on a clear day,
that witnessing presence.
|The "witnessing presence" of Cotopaxi.|