A new mountain range lines the horizon,
Black against the rising sun's golden sky.
My dog pays it no mind
And though I know it for illusion,
Just clouds from last night's storm piled high,
Certainly just illusion,
I still think of unhooking her leash
And setting off into the unknown:
To trap furs in some clean valley
To stake a claim by some fast flowing stream,
Perhaps to find a golden city
Peopled by credulous primitives
Whose first Middle American am I,
Perhaps to stand on the highest point, my Darien,
And look across an uncharted glittering ocean.
Our six feet turn from habit for home.
She's never once looked at the sky,
And knowing it illusion,
I bid all hope, goodbye.
William L Roberts
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-new-mountain-range-lines-the-horizon/
