If I were a mountain,
I’d be rugged and tall
with my head in the clouds.
I’d be wild with rivers that whisper and roar;
I’d flourish with creatures,
forests, and storms. If I were a mountain,
my thunder would pound
hard as a hammer, crisp as the morn.
Come June, I’d flower
with poppy and glow. Come fall,
I’d showcase maple groves. I’d be orange and yellow,
red and bold. If I were a mountain,
I’d be capped in snow. I’d cradle a village
in a quaint meadow. I’d decorate Christmas
with evergreen spruce. If I were a mountain,
miners would sluice their hopes and dreams from solitude.
From my upcoming book, The Wolf Pack Moon. Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®
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Thanks, Bette!
Wonderful! 🙂
After the romantic description of the mountain in each season, the last two poignant lines took me by surprise, bringing me to another reality. Beautiful poem. Wishing your upcoming book a lot of success! Thanks for liking my post. Cheers 🙂 Irina
I appreciate your feedback. Thanks for spending the time to read my work and for the good wishes. Ditto.
Thanks for the follow. I love your poem. It’s a beautiful dream. A dreamer myself. Looking forward to many more posts.
Thanks for coming to visit and leaving your comment. Yes, without our dreams what would there to be to look forward to?