clouds chase and shift after each other,
streaks of mauve and porcelain,
breezing along the icy blue sky.
peaks rose before them,
like a sandcastles yet to be molded
by a child who had long left to play the tides.
awkward and stoic in their placement,
the dented curves and cornered edges
a silent tribute to the test of time.
and, if i stepped closer
perhaps i’d witness the haggard summit and
the infinite memories sliced away by storms.
perhaps i’d feel the thundering stampede of snow,
horses of silver, churning with menace,
scraggly trees bowing to powdered stones.
i might hear the deafening howl of a banshee,
striking the mountain in roars of
unrelenting lashes dotted in flakes of white,
and maybe - if i stepped closer still,
i’d see the atoms of each cloud,
bustling in its frenzy electricity,
bonding and breaking,
breaking and bonding,
bonding and breaking still.
but as i stand, allowing the zephyr
to brush past my crimson dress,
i watch the soft fluffs of clouds frolick,
and admire majestic towers of nature,
hearing nothing but the soft susurrus
of wind and ripples and leaves and life,
and of a lovely autumn evening.