Katy Didden, considering Mt. Rainier (or Tacoma, or Tahoma), from her essay ‘The Poetics of Tectonic Scale’:

The more I see the mountain, even from thousands of miles away, the more I trust that nothing’s mine, that to be is to belong to infinity. If this desire to perform distance requires moving and uprooting, can a poem, with its time-folding rhythms, be a home? Can an hour be? The more I move, the less certain I am of a fixed self, except as one who needs to share what I see: the white volcano with no weather side. When it erupts, we will know the mountain was nowhere near what we imagined it was. It will alter its shape, slip the rigging of its names, and it will rename us.