The sun is breaking up
foggy layers that are
gliding up the mountain
and through our open windows.
Or is it that the mountain
itself is rising and shifting
the patterns of wind,
casting the greyness northward?
No matter.
Evidence of God's creative mind
is drifting by and rising with
endless sights of mountains,
far as eyes can reach.
Only the hawks that gracefully
soar past our balcony know
The secrets of the mountains
I remain silent, in awe, in respect
of God's majestic beauty
that our world displays poetically,
artistically, visually, whole-heartedly.
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