I hear transcendentalists whisper
louder than the snow falls
outside my windows.
Perhaps I should be sitting
up on the hill
waiting for persevering snowflakes
to fall through the guarding branches of trees
instead of in my home
with a heated mattress and cable TV.
Perhaps, last summer,
I should not have been standing
on a metal bridge made by engineer
but in God’s heart
in the thick of British Columbia.
But then again,
I’ve seen things as beautiful
like the friends racing down the alleyway
or the sleeping man at the opera.
Perhaps all transcendence isn’t in nature
but in the human nature to capture it
and the transcendent moment
when we finally do
without even trying.