 10 Feb 2006 @ 16:47
Gray Mountain
Beyond my window, I see you Gray Mountain, stone-hearted guardian gazing upon this city. Your face is beautifully weathered, lined with deep ridges and a forest of whiskers.
Do not gaze condescendingly upon this valley and its inhabitants.
I hear your long whisper carried by the gentle breeze, “I am proud but weary of the beating winds and rain that blow from the north giants. If you would but climb my peaks, I would speak to you, and dispense wisdom long-forgotten. Fear me not. Do not the children of goats safely leap on my chin, and the children of eagles nest in my nostrils without rebuke? I have caused them no harm.”
I have heard your song, Gray Friend, and will arise onto the border of your shoulder, and whisper in your ear the delight I feel to view sunsets through your parted hairs. Your snow white temples do not diminish your beauty at all. Age has been your friend, and softened your edges.
N Marion Hage © 1/25/06
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