She

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.