The Mountain

The mountain keeps a storied heart, Rising cloaked in misty grace, With crowns of snow, a wondrous art, And valleys kissed by time’s embrace.

Each morning blooms with painted skies, While echoes ring from heights afar, In every challenge, nature sighs, Unfolding truths loud like the stars.

In silence bold, the crags stand tall, Guardians of oaths the ages knew, Where winds still sing of every fall, And time is held, a sacred dew.

For on this rise, we come to seek, A bond with earth, a quiet peace, Where reverence finds the words to speak, In mountain hymns, we find release.

• Edward Thomas