from Headwaters (1995)
I know the mountains covered with snow,
and misty green of earth's awakening,
when they are drenched in summer storms,
painted with master colors
softened with Indian Summer smoke.
Mountains, so steady, and yet they change
when each determined morning climbs.
Some of night sneaks into hollows
but noonday sun blasts it out,
gold heat here but up there—trees.
I know the mountains when heat is gone
and sun challenges the regal night.
I know them when raindrops fall
and break, and wet the silver lichen;
and white mist tassels the trees.
Then dusky dark, its curtain silent;
the mountains grow star-ward
around us, and over us and
under. Even inside us.
Where do the mountains stop?