Faithful Mountains Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Faithful Mountains



Maybe the mountains curl around
The haunts of your neighborhood,
And you awaken in the strange contracts
Of the scientists perfecting hope-
The entire forest is expectant, seems to be
Pregnant with the thoughts of your senses;
And all the houses are made from
Those dead ancestors who used to celebrate
The wind and figured the airplanes
As the higher hopes of god.
Each snowflake falls for you, Is
Attracted to you like faithful metal,
Curls and whispers around your cooing daughter
Like faeries,
And you don’t have to wonder, tucking her in
What her fist word will be,
Because it is certain to be as beautiful as your
Own language blessing that sky that curls up
Against your faithful mountains everyday.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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