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Mountain Storm

Mountain Storm

Gentlemen oaks usher mountaineers
On Appalachian fern gold
Whose fronds are lush with dreams
That gather in the mossy cusp of nature’s beautician
Who makes a patchwork quilt of green
On rocky heads of ancient totems
We emerge onto a bald God’s summit
Below clouds grow restless
As troops with no war
Who throw electric javelins
While bloodletting water
Bled from the earth
Whose aerial arteries
Flow in mist and rain
My sight blurs in flood on glasses
That obscures all but light
“Oh my God!” I exclaim
My gem of the mountain air says,
“All will be well my love.”
And we arrive at our shiny metal bug
goldenmyst
Written by goldenmyst
Published
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