The Peak Poem by Barry Middleton
The Peak
In a mountain meadow,
water flows from a rock.
Moss is green and thick
beside the Rhododendron.
As I reach the rocky peak
I gaze across the valley.
Fog rolls down the slope
to mark the time to go.
My camp is far below.
It welcomes me at sunset.
The rushing of the spring
soothes my fretful night.
The crackle of the fire
warms my secret dream.
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: moments,mountains
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4/26/2024 3:30:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Another beautiful imagistic and comforting poem. I imagine the view atop the tallest mountain. The last 4 lines pull in not only image, but the sounds of a rushing creak and a crackling fire. A crackling fire is really a soothing and comforting image...pulls at the roots of our being and existence. Well conceived. Thanks for sharing Barry. Maybe we could include this one too?
Thanks Pamela. Feel free to include any of my work. Glad you like this one