An Alpine State of Mind

Sometimes I see the alpine, so cold and chilled, and I can't imagine anything living there. So fast it goes from pleasant to storm, how close you are to winter even in spring or summer. It is a couragous place, this mountain and its brethern. I tried to be there in this poem, an alpine state of mind.



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Put me in cold air in high places
Wrap me in fog mixed with alien faces
Pour me into swamp
Chilled
Shiver these alp trees that huddle
From brush of wind
That drinks
Such moisture filling needles that
Drip
Drip
Drip
onto grass whose green sprouts
spring from their seeds
and bring to life
the meadow
of colors that cloud the alpine slopes
with rainbows of life
whose flowers slumber all year
for the day the sun shines
and warms the rocks like bones
and awakens
the
spring
in this place
so warm with life
shivering in the cold