She
was a mountain
in high wind
blasted by gritty ice
and blinded
by sharp stinging knives
driven at angles.
She
stood monumental
in dark skies
unwavering.
Coated in cold ice mass,
she warmed
and melted
from the middle
and when temperatures
plummeted around her
she raised her shoulders
to smile
at the rays of the sun.
Muscular,
with strapping girth
her fists formed boulders
and wrists forged into iron.
The jaw of her summit
jutted into blows and caresses
without turning
and her spine straightened
lifting her crown
beyond the darkness of the clouds.
But now,
she shelters
from the shout of storms
in the shadow of the south.
Lifting her face
to the warm smile of the sun
she turns away
from angled blasts
to listen for the melody
through the window of the wind.
Withstanding
the beat of time
in songs of weathered wearing
she raises her countenance
with inner beauty
forged in the moment
of day and night,
and still stands,
a proud mountain,
in the heart of those who love her.