In summer she thunders majestically
her splendor spewing power soaked
sound waves of security cross the valley
and trails where tourists are cloaked
in her confident comforting mist.
In winter she quick silently retreats
to the mountaintop peaks of surrealist
chill hibernation eerily replete
with mankindness's self-interested
profit motive doused in froze song.
In spring dogwood bloom crested
redwoods and Rockies coax along
her re-emergence. She windchimes
her essence, then winds up her chords
karaoked according to times.
There was one spring when the lords
or ladies or deities or whatever
hushed her for a moment
in favor of the wailing fresh quiver
of fresh breath born to foment.