01-02-2018, 05:05 AM
(I really don't have a title for this. Titles are not my strength.)
These distant mountains speak
in tones too low for the living to hear.
Winter snow,
nestled on peaks
and crags,
is a single syllable --
a soft vowel sound.
I cannot hear the language
of these mountains,
though I listen,
my bare feet
on stony soil,
my lips wet
with glacial waters.
I sometimes hear the echo
of those words
in the footfalls
of a cottontail rabbit,
in the hissing of a
rattlesnake hiding
in the tall, summer grass.
These distant mountains speak
in tones too low for the living to hear.
Winter snow,
nestled on peaks
and crags,
is a single syllable --
a soft vowel sound.
I cannot hear the language
of these mountains,
though I listen,
my bare feet
on stony soil,
my lips wet
with glacial waters.
I sometimes hear the echo
of those words
in the footfalls
of a cottontail rabbit,
in the hissing of a
rattlesnake hiding
in the tall, summer grass.