A Poem A Week #19

I Dream of Mountains

I dream of mountains,
Baring their mighty chests
Of blinding white and summer’s best,
The kind I climb with ecstasy;
They mean romance to me.

I dream of mountains,
The treetops to heaven’s gate,
Twisting, suddenly straight,
Never bent to the wind;
Angels’ closest friend.

Yet I see the ocean,
Always hot, or always cold,
No way of knowing young or old,
Whether steady or raging;
Ever stupidly aging.

I see the ocean,
Never rough nor gentle,
In one place, detrimental,
In others, washing clean;
It never says what it means.

Catherine Joy

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