Mountain Morning

The mountains, lustrous at dawn.
Below, here in the valley,
the droplets of last night’s rain
shimmer on blades and twigs, their
molecules respond to the sun
like a woman rising to
meet a beloved’s touch.

Wait.
Something is going on up there
on the deep-packed slope.
A whirling figure of white, of mist,
there, yet almost not;
A snow giant,
like a tranced dervish, twirls in
the morning’s new energies—
it whirls violently,
fingerless, wispy hands thrust
high into the cold blue,
200 feet tall, or more.
A mile, maybe. It’s hard
to tell from here, as it’s
insubstantial. Massive.

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Highland Hallucinations

Lanky four-legged beasts,
Macabre silhouettes in the morning light,
Cast shadows into the icy valley below,
Prolonging the slumber, if only for a second,
Of the yet-snoozing in their colorful caves.

The creatures slowly creep skyward,
Laboriously climbing to the rocky ridge,
Taking long strides with gaunt forelegs
No thicker than sticks and just as straight.
It seems the giraffe of Broadway gave up the spotlight
To graze the vertical savanna of Japan’s mountains.
Packing our gear, we head out on safari.

Mountain of Apprehension

A somber fear grows deep down
That, ere I near the mountain crown,
Silent tears will slip off eyelash cliffs
And tumble down the deep abyss,
As flames lick and lame my knee
Forcing me to falter and flee
To hours of painful descent in defeat,
Beaten by gravity, compelled to retreat.
Gritting my teeth, head bowed in shame,
Drooped with the burden of bearing the blame.

Westward Window

Sierra, my home. Bedroom the sky. Holyholy zoom, the eagles,
directing my eyes I am a habitué, dawdling gazer with
a wide brimmed hat, flounder(er) with my words I trip over
the too large robe of my praises.

Mount Blanc

Her great mass
Tears the clouds, pierces the sky
Pulls at the high blues
Stealing it for her glaciers

With You

From here I see a dozen mountaintops and more.
How many have we climbed together?
How many more remain to us?

Mountains Majesty

Mini Monoverse

Stand and gaze
Mountain haze

How Many Trees

How many trees does it take to clothe a mountain?
How many grains form the river’s watershed?
How many drops does it take to fill a fountain?
How many hairs wave and toss upon my head?

Air Mail

Surrounded by majestic mountains
Newly shrouded in night
Their silhouettes barely visible
Beneath a crescent moon

Amidst The Hills!

Amidst the mighty hills I stood,
Hills and mountains with their hoods..
Canopy of trees around,
I shout out for a new sound!

Feeling the vibes that surrounds:
The strength of the mounds
The Joy in the waving leaves
The blue sky that finally weaves!

hush chills

the leaves twist their fingers
telling the wind to hush
as it prattles on, rushing across
the necks of rivers, slithering up
the spines of bridges, biting

The Woodlands Sing

I sat upon the mountain top
Gazing down on the earth below
Basking in all the wonders of life
With the sun in the sky, aglow

High Hopes

If I were a mountain,
I’d be rugged and tall
with my head in the clouds.
I’d be wild with rivers that whisper and roar;
I’d flourish with creatures,
forests, and storms. If I were a mountain,
my thunder would pound
hard as a hammer, crisp as the morn.

Memories Evoked

Copyright © 060415 by Karen Payze

 

I look out over the valley
To the mountains
And row
Upon row
Upon row
Upon row
Of prickly needled pines

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Fiery giant looks down
On a slowly wakening world,
Muted rubies, amber and gold
Lie under
Soft fleece blanket,
Slowly it’s drawn back

Poison Veins

Can’t find the stinger;

it drowns in drips and dribbles

of raining oceans

pooling on sun-tanned beaches:

perhaps it was never there.

Three haiku

Hummingbird supping
Green wings beat so quickly that
He appears a blur

Rocky Mountain High

I wish I were in Boulder
on top of Lookout Mountain at night
      with the city spread out below
      and Denver in the distance,
      stoplights changing,
      headlight moving,
      but no noise…
      as if it were a gigantic toy
             running silently.

The cold, crisp air surrounding me
    canopying numberless stars
behind
    the strong, solid mountains;
a cocoon of silence battening me from shocks
and an occasional plane silently twinkling its lights
    as it passes by
    on a mysterious journey from one someplace
    				to another.

Two haiku

Copyright janet m. webb 2009

Past

You know the rainbow is fading when you
Tear away from the embrace of the cute mouse
And you find an excuse to kill the sorcerer
And you coop up at home cowering of the sun

You know the mountains await when your
Little country path becomes winding
And your forty winks become zero
And your toys are suffocating in the closet.