(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)
Commentary
Seriously…. I never saw a mountain that I didn’t want to run up. My strength didn’t match my desire—I wouldn’t run far. But the wish was there, nonetheless. Why? I come at this question by asking first why we consider mountains beautiful. Why don’t we simply see them as big piles of rock? I suspect we recognize a destiny that’s bigger and better than what we now see. What do you think?
Did you notice the rhyme pattern? I don’t usually bother with that kind of challenge.
(background image by Keith Johnston on Pixabay)
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