The mountains 


Moments are fleeting and few.

Born on the wind’s back, 

through clouds of slate blue

that pierce every crack.
Today we played in the rain

as it turned into snow, 

cold hands on a swing chain

Children cold, but ready to go
The mountains covered in white

So solid and true

Fresh air blowing my hair like a kite

Into eyes that see, anew.
This moment in nature’s wonder

fills my spirit with electric fire,

enlighten my soul with thunder

and releases my ire.