On this Mountainside

Staying up late, I try and make my 100th post worth reading. Alas, I am at a loss for words. Too much noise, too much reasoning what is good and what is bad, but sometimes that is the way of it?

So it is easier then that I write of nature again (something of a theme lately). And in this particular rhyme I imagine high cold rocks and grasses, above the highest of alpine trees, nearly to snow. It is there, back against boulder, I watch night turn to day and back again.

Lift up the night to awaken
on this mountainside;
witness sun-swept slopes between
glacier and tree,
watch their shadows march and ride.

Feel the breeze lick these glassy waters
on this mountainside;
feel those lances of wind
prickle its skin,
where fish and fly rise and collide

Suffer the lonely rain clouds who weep
on this mountainside;
curse those painful tears that run
wild with abandon,
flowing down stream and over rock side

Put to rest the day to dream
on this mountainside;
witness dark-swept slopes between
glacier and tree,
watch their shadows march and ride