Mountains

She sits watching for all eternity. Civilizations come and go. Creatures come and go.

Each time the greatest minds amongst them build bigger and better dwellings around her skirts, in the foothills.

She amazes us in colder months with her cap, or long shawl of pure white snow, glistening against the grey skies of winter,

in her attempt to shoulder the worst of the weather on our behalf, preventing us from being chilled to the bone.

In the warmer weather is she is lucky, she sits blissfully looking on sometimes, however she is ravaged by fire,

turning her coat from the lush shades of green, to a mixture of green and burnt brown or black.

Man has gone from living on the land, to living in towers, this too is a repeated exercise,

as we look at our history books, to the dwellings of the ancestral civilizations.

Man will once again return to the land, and then once again build big towers, how soon we forget.

Our temperatures may change rapidly, our water depths may alter;

the landscape will always be subject to the finest seasonal displays of blossoms and blooms

our mountain however will remain all through the ages of man.