The mountain stands aglow in shadows, Where winds travel deep, braced in stone, With paths both sighing, resting below; Through birch they draw slow, sighing faithful, In every crease a story lay, Held warm beneath their sacred grace— Mountains—tall in majesty, left untouched, Rise above the clouds, fighting time’s erasure, They speak of ages unfurling in delight, The sturdy climbs etched by important hands, Those who find their hearts cradled here, Will learn from the echo’s muffled sounds, Voices cascading wave-like, mystified light.

• “Majestic Heights”

• Laura Riding