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To Home Mountain

 

By Ken Shiovitz

 

Silently hidden amongst rumpled horizon,

Acetate lain over with creamy gray slashes,

Cloud or else substance evanescing with sky.

 

Drama at a distance, Jupiter juggling its moons,

Eternally dynamic, but mostly unnoticed,

Until crisp night-lens clears to irresistible sight.

 

Icy white skullcap fades back into vapors,

But then re-emerges maintaining its space,

Daring you draw close to prove it is there.

 

But daydreaming, drive round a curve in the highway,

The Mount fills your view as a deer on the hood,

Exposing each glacier like a can-can girl’s rump.

 

At once a threat, smoking gun, and killer,

Also culmination, inspiration, and comfort,

Platform, foundation, canvas, a pathway.

 

Flaunting its age with magnificent presence,

Mocks human ego, while affirming existence,

Reminds that eternal here and there is real.


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