Photograph of the Last Ili Pika on Earth

Up and up toward the peak the pika scrambled
just ahead of the heat fast rising, mounting
like the waters around a sinking island,
bound for parts where no grasses ever flourish,
trees don’t blossom, no glaciers flow or glitter,
past the margin where even mosses wither.

Stand in awe at this climber of rock faces
gazing at the photographer, undaunted,
short-eared, shimmery, windstorm-ruffled pelage,
forehead splashed with the red of rusty rubble.

All his fellows abruptly overheated,
some attempting to hop across the canyon
up a loftier mountain, others hiding
under talus that shed its snowy mantle,
while still others succumbed from want of flora.

See him scuttle across the icy boulder,
brave the blizzard, or tremble in the tempest.
Do not ask how the ruggedest of rabbits
could have found himself trapped inside a greenhouse,
how four paws could have been so damn unlucky.