“The view from a mountaintop”

Clouds tumble beneath, like a silver-spun sea,  
And the wind wears the wild scent of pine.  
Above, endless blue, airy vastness and free,  
Where the dawn drips its honey-gold shine.  

The world, spread below in a patchwork unfurled—  
Tiny farms, whispering rivers, a thread—  
Distant towns where the morning mist twirled,  
And the sun crowns the summits with red.  

Here silence is music; each breath, the refrain,  
Echoes far from the valley’s green floor.  
The ache in my limbs is a small, lovely pain  
For the promise of heights and of more.  

Cloud shadow and eagle, the stars’ gentle sweep  
Are lessons the high ridges teach:  
That dreams are for climbing, the climb can be steep,  
But the view puts the heavens in reach.

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