The mountains where I live
lift the heavens
with quiet strength.
This morning, driving
down the country road,
I saw a slow drift of cloud
wrap its silky hands—
glide like a shadow
above the tree canopy,
unfurl a million beads
into the green leaves
of towering trees
and the blades of dew-laced grass,
until the whole mountain stood
clothed in white,
breathing the mystic scent of heaven.