Cotton Crowns

Upon their granite, sculpted brows, A chiffon ballet swirls and bows. Cloud-scarves drape, light as a sigh, Where mountains, aged and stoic, lie. Feathers of heaven, soft and white, Escape the nest of day's pale light, Tangled in peaks, a playful tease, Whispered secrets on the breeze. Cotton castles, stacked on high, Guarded by giants reaching for the sky. Sunlight paints, in fleeting grace, A masterpiece on Nature's face. Ballerinas, light and fair, Dance against the mountains' stare. Shy mist clings, a child afraid, Of open sky, and sunlight's raid. Ships of air, on wind-tossed seas, Navigate where giants please. Rudder clouds, in currents deep, Around the mountain's rocky steep. Whispers carried, secrets told, Through pine and rain, the story's rolled. Sunbeams pierce, in dappled grace, The mountain's rugged, timeless face. Drumbeats rumble, deep and low, Thunder's voice, where shadows grow. Mountains watch, unyielding, strong, As clouds sing out their fleeting song. In this canvas, vast and grand, Nature's symphony plays at hand. From whispers soft, to thunder's call, The mountains hold it all, in all. So stand we here, where shadows play, And watch the clouds dance out their day. In every twist, and every hue, A mountain's tale, whispered true.