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I go to the Mountain
I go to the mountain for air,
Ghostly breathless, climbing each stair.
Ahead, or behind the vision’s so clear,
But each step is imprinted, dusting the air.
The pain of ascent wracks every ribcage
Setting a pace, atmospherically engaged.
Restful alpine carpets off-trail,
Surprises of buckwheat, sage, cilantro to inhale.
Jeweled, ethereal, silver-orb strands
Stream down waterfalls through my hands,
Into snow-fed, icy, ripple-mirrored lakes
Of moonlight, granite, countless fish-wakes.
Wind carries the waterfall’s rush
Conjuring a sleeper’s hush,
To reawaken with a gusting slap
Against the cozy tent-fly flap.
Pushing through the dustless pass
Songs of mosquito, wolf and grouse,
Whispering secrets
across treeless peaks.
I came to the mountain for air,
And carry it in my chest,
A molecule, a pulse,
A place to breathe,
A place to rest.
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it felt like i was climbing that mountain myself... wonderfully written!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful imagery here, Dianne. I love these:
ReplyDeleteRestful alpine carpets off-trail,
Surprised by buckwheat, sage, cilantro inhaled.
Jeweled, ethereal, silver-orb strands
Stream down waterfalls through my hands,
Into snow-fed, icy, ripple-mirrored lakes
Of moonlight, granite, countless fish-wakes.
Carried by wind is the waterfall’s rush
Conjuring up a sleeper’s hush,
Just beautiful!
Very enjoyable. The clipped, economical style suits the subject matter admirably, emphasizing the effort of climbing etc.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful, Dianne. You brought me with you on this mountain trail with these words.
ReplyDeleteI can almost hear the tent, flapping in the wind- feel the breeze on my face, see the alpine flowers. Thank you for this.