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Saturday, April 21, 2007

My Mountain

Rating: 5.0
From the hills
I could see my mountain
standing like their elder brother,
and then I went
down into the city
and I saw my mountain
stretching upward like a reminder.

From across the far river
another side of my mountain
speaks a new, strange language,

and even from the sea
my mountain rises up
like the crown some great island.

In the shadow
of my mountain today,
I saw the backs
of workers bent double.

My mountain
startled my eyes this morning
with a pink shawl
around her shoulders,
for yesterday
her garment had been grey.

I think I have seen every color
winking from my mountain's eye,
and at times my mountain,
playing with me,
even disappears,

and it is then
that I see her
the clearest.

__

note: this poem is inspired by Mount Diablo in northern California.
Max Reif
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COMMENTS
Ivan Donn Carswell 21 April 2007
Max, all mountains have a spirit - you have captured the image rather well here. Mt Diablo sound akin to our mountian Tibrogargan - a brooding sonambulist awaiting all time to cease. Rgds, Ivan
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