Mountains
Pink haze wreaths a scarf around
Rock shoulders,
Steadying dizzy scapes
Against arctic wind.
The land’s jagged, full of sharpened edges,
Drops
Deepened where His Fingers shaped
And carved the canyons,
Nestled Knuckles
Between trees breathing cold.
Scattered points of pine
Flock the valleys–
A conifer carpet
Amid open spots of white.
From above, flattened ridges
Watch the sky, waiting
For the blushing warm
To cast a smile on their face.
— Jubilee A. Lipsey, 2016
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