To undulated slopes with bulge and dip,
To trees and bushes of assorted green tints,
To loft peaks and valleys deep.
Trails lead to destinations unknown,
Birds roosting call in tongues unknown,
Rivers rumble down greeting folks unknown,
Clouds rise to adorn heavens unknown.
The mountain appears rigid and impassive,
Beneath the pretense it is soft and expressive,
Rain and wind often do break these rocks massive,
Streams create paths in apathy but decisive.
Climbing from the bottom and reaching the goal,
Gives a sense of fictitious achievement,
Without the consent of the mountain soul,
All efforts would be a glorious disappointment.
The mountain sings their love song,
They can like or loathe, protect and wrong,
“Come to see me, praise me but never fear,
Whatever is your feeling I shall reciprocate dear”.
The mountain captures the essence of life,
And distributes it free for man to survive,
We cut trees and mountains; they don’t mind,
“Replenish that with love Bo” is all they opine.
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