View From Upstairs Poem by Celine Socrates

When you reach the peak of the summit
and find for yourself a seat
in the rough slope of a large rock
jutting out of the earth,
and the wind tousles your hair like fingers
gliding through your scalp
and you breathe it in,
breathe it out,
you will see below you
the scattered dots of trees,
the contours of land like a human face
staring back at you as though saying,
“Now you see me,
now you see me.”