At thirteen thousand feet, I saw majestic long horn sheep
about three hundred yards away from the highway up Pikes Peak.
I stopped the car and ran across the mountain tundra
intending to get closer for a better picture,
or I rather jumped from rock to rock avoiding tiny flowers,
moss, and lichen in that fragile alpine zone
until my rapid breathing caught me by surprise.
I had forgotten that the air up at such an altitude is as rare
as all the ground beneath me.
In that special atmosphere I was remembering something quite
pedestrian—
breathing is as awesome as whatever else is out there in its
fantastic exhalation.
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