The Cascades
Mount Baker seen from my window,
is framed in his garment of snow,
towering over his neighbors and
admired from the valley below.
His beauty can't be disputed,
the poets and artists concur.
His jealous sister is angry.
He's taking attention from her.
So proud of the fact she is taller
than all of her brothers save one,
resenting Rainier for his stature,
he's too near her loved god, the sun.
Mount Hood, Mount Adams and others
who make up the great Cascades Range,
have at one time or other ignored her.
She vows this contempt will soon change.
St. Helens could hold it no longer,
her deep seated, smoldering rage.
She vents it early one morning,
the anger she's held for an age.
The havoc she's wrought is tremendous.
She feels no regret and no shame.
She's striking a blow for sisterhood.
The world will remember her name.
She forfeits some of her beauty,
which passing of time will reclaim.
The others now bow to her fury.
She basks in her ill gotten fame.
Her brothers are slumbering giants.
Their power is yet to be seen.
They're holding their strength in abeyance,
giving Helens her reign as the queen.
We love them, unheeding the danger.
We daringly dwell at their feet,
knowing full well we're under the spell
of idols with dues swift and steep.
St. Helens has sounded a warning,
with some of us paying a price.
We stay, though aware of the perils,
encased in that beautiful ice.
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