Gazing over the plains nestled far below
Inching our way over rock-strewn trails,
The words resounding through our thoughts
Keep silent...like ivy growing wild, reaching
For moisture in several directions at once.
The attention we give these mountains needs
No conversation to make a point or hold
The soul rapt with an abundance of peace.
Air is as light as heaven when the nights
Rehearse their lines in circles of tranquility.
Silence fills the canyon walls...it is hope on a
Short string tied to quiescent ambiance. Stillness settles
Over us like shadows on the craggy back of Longs Peak.
Watching the dawn clothe massive cairns with a purple
Mountain majesty, our mute response serves only to affirm....
To speak would be a sacrilege.
Copyright © sharon peeples