Mountains Rise

Mountains rise
Before me

I wish I could
Run my hand 
Across the crest of them

As one caresses
A pup’s head
Noble and watchful

Lined uniquely
With purposed shape
Beautifully invigorated

Yet they are big
And I small

In stature
But not so
In heart and spirit

Would I one day
Become their master
Dignified in gratitude?

This poem was written at my parents’ house in North Georgia sometime last year. They have a beautiful view of the Blue Ridge Mountains.