The Mountain Crown

Held high-aloft,
the mountain crown,
so crystalline, so cold,
fretfully encircles
her ancient brow.

I’d not known
the mountain
before now,

but I am proud
to huddle against
her freezing gusts
and diamond-swirls,
collecting sundrops…

this brilliant and frigid
of cascading powder.

Shine through in throes,
raw and rippling, savagely,
her majesty, radiant, gripping
me, mere mortal, tragically
fleeting, but uplifting,

‘ever by the shorthairs.

My chin is lifted,
I can’t help but see
the glory, unbridled,
my snow-capped queen,

as she reaches for the stars,
longing for connection, alone,
so begins another age of hoping
that the blackness will part,
and call her home…

where elder stardust drifts,
and like flurries of snow,
catches the cosmic light,
as it flits, to and fro.

She can’t be bothered to know
minor matters of her court,
nor the pained, wistful wishes
made my holy-minded visitors,
congregants, or parishioners,
that worship at the foot

of the mountain throne.

©️ CG Tenpenny, 2023.

Caught in a daydream.

Leave a Reply