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Show Mile High City 139 but he has not suffered with me this last illness. He has been very dutiful, but he is desperately tired. I am almost afraid for him with all this work, but I, these weeks have made me old, my body is old. I am wasted and thin and move with diffi culty. I feel so concerned about my children, and at the responsibility ahead of me. But most of all, I am concerned with losing my beautiful legs, and the strength therein. I keep remembering how it feels to climb East Mountain fast, I remember the time I bared my breast to the wind. A poem about the ranch contains metaphors of aspiration that reflect the landscape of the mountains: MY FEET CAN SCALE THE HEIGHTS My feet can scale the heights Oh I can climb The mystic, jagged lookout peaks of time My eyes can pierce the distance, I can view The detail-bloated land, the painless blue. And sitting still against the sweeping air I can breathe, and flash my teeth at My feel can scale the heights, leaching care. Oh I can climb The mystic, jagged lookout peaks of time. At times of personal decision making, Madelyn wanted to raise her arms like the branches of the quaking aspen and draw her strength from the mountains. In fact, as she remembered, she had so identified herself with her hills, that she had written her own tombstone verse: Here lie the deeds and dreams of Madelyn Silver where they belong on a hillside Madelyn went home from the hospital on August 7, after |
