It is the dawn breaking over their peaks
That shimmers the morning’s glory in glowing valleys.
Mountains, as poets, often speak in cloud stanzas,
Seducing my emotions and binding me to the West.
I feel the clarity of meaning spread all around me in azure skies
And I kneel in respect as I admire my surroundings.
I have communed with the moistures stacked in continental divides.
I have entangled with mountainous gravitas.
I now belong to the western lands,
And borrow a few of their moments
For my transient existence,
In their almost infinite geological times.
Bill Frederick
Durango
