Please don’t lose your footing, so hold someone’s hand if you have to. Because if you’re lucky, and she’s feeling generous, she’ll change the way you breathe.
You might want to possess her, climb her, fly to her lap and fall asleep to the howling of her wind. You can entertain fanasies of sleeping at her feet. The thudding in your chest and your red, chapped fingers will remind you that your body still lives even as your mind has floated upward towards her summit.
Or you could just watch her from below. You can be still, and quiet, and reverent. You can get back on the bus and squint your eyes for a peek of the blonde fur of a grizzly, or the white calm of a dall sheep, or the grey-brown slink of a wolf. That’s if you can tear your eyes away from her and wait until the next time she’ll grace us.
Look near. Look far. Look deep.