This poem was inspired by a view I enjoy when I'm driving up a stretch of road not far from my home. There's no lack for mountains to look at in Vermont, but there's this one particular one that always catches my eye. I saw it again recently and thought, "I wonder how far it would be to walk there." My brain gears kept spinning from there and a poem happened.
Misty mountain far from here,
With snow perched on its peak.
Where dreams and dragons together roam,
And human echoes rarely speak.
Tooth of the earth rising high,
To meet the pale full moon.
Horizon’s form, in glory, breaks the sky,
Contesting sun’s cherished place at noon.
With ancient miles walked in wonder;
How many wanderers have been drawn to foot?
Beneath shifting clouds and rolling thunder,
Feet traveled far in weary boots.
With swords on back and hopes held close,
Brave souls march to chance your crown.
To meet your summit; where sights silence voice,
And stars peer blinking down.
What about you draws them so?
To leave home and hearth behind?
What magic calls us all to go,
With unclear purpose blind?
Today I ignore your siren’s call.
But tomorrow? Who can say?
How long ‘til I too am your thrall,
And abandon all to march your way?
Across harrowing miles and up desperate climb,
Harried by the elements and beasts.
Striving to mark my name in time,
And find your hold released.
