Where I live the mountains are prayers
stretched in crowny rock rings
of harsh and loud majesty.
Where I live the larchwoods are layers
of ages unseen and unspoken,
clorophyll fingers pointing a moisty
above. Where I live clouds move
in a dancing beauty of impending
greys, watery pillows and lightning gloves.
Where I live fiery glaciers do whisper
children rhymes of icy fingers
to the unspeakably silent heart
of what we call Earth.
Where I live the rivers are thundering,
the north winds are goose bumping
airy pages flowing back and forth,
the wholeness of landscape a shivering
wave, nothing shorter than a strong love burst.