“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Thursday, October 17, 2019
Montaña
I have never seen
a mountain
I did not like
until now.
I had never before seen
a mountain
you could fall in love with
whose body hovered over yours
like an angel, whose shape outlined
the carnal tone
and muster its mass
against the sky with ease.
I found myself
at the base.
Cowering in the shadows,
meeting the mountain
I thought I had been dwelling atop
for the first time
seeing level
as plain as today.
Photograph credit: Ansel Adams [Public domain], Glacier National Park Montana c. 1941-42 via Wikimedia Commons.
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