These Mountains..
I would move these mountains for you if you asked
play them like chess pieces until I made it to you
(Wherever that is)
I know you’re not a pawn in this game tho
I know you’re not a pawn.
Strong, mighty and stoic you stand
like the hemlock and spruce fir
along the ridge line they span
arms wide, waiting to welcome me in
whispering secrets from the past
(like we do with our eyes)
Everyone who came before
left an imprint
has a story to tell..
The Eastern band of Cherokee
You, me.
These mountains..
(The Blue Ridge)
Hundreds of millions of years in the making
these mountains spoke to me
without words
long before our story began.
With the rustle of leaves
or the snap of a twig
with the isoprene that gives them their color
(Blue)
with the change in terrain or elevation
they speak
they echo.
Granite and limestone reverberates the sound
hauntingly so
draws me in close
has my full attention, always
like you do.
And as I listen
these mountains..
from the high country to the foothills
they hold me and cradle me and rock me to sleep.