Heights of Unhappiness

Grandfather Mountain

Crew cut mountains with your icy wind March deadness,

stand erect among those who have fallen;

valley willows weep from your breath;

grey veils cloud your vision of times yet to be;

moss lined paths hold the dew of your veins;

asphalt threads scar your ancient body;

early morning tears cleanse the monuments of your weaknesses;

pensive pines and spruce guard the mysteries that were once yours alone;

time’s crippled currents are the pools in which you must bath while

thoughtless humans unravel your serenity and garbage piles

of decadence seem to be your children’s final playground.

March 1976