Pilgrim’s postcards   1 Each feature of geography is vast. The mountains munch the sky. They leave no gaps Between their icing-sugared ridges, just More hugeness. Saturated light entraps My eyes, and elongates my shadow, floored By this showy magnificence in Pride. On one point, I confess I’m under-awed: A flag-adoring population rides Its boasts like broncos. “We’ve got what it takes!” Blazes from the summits of blind belief. You can’t have losers in these smugness stakes. I’ve left Pride, not without a prim relief, To head for Wrath, but pulled up to remind Myself this is the way of…