Hagiography

Mountain, sky and
windsong converge now

categorically confined
no more; treewind and

birdsong fill me in
a deluge of daylight calm,

pressed into the palms of
earthcrease like a branch

of time on the fortune of
its camber as we become the

hagiography of these
mountains singing,

Glistening among the
gleam of their own silence

in this palace, this crown of
healing as the canyon,

breath of my lungs,
inhales the story of aspen,

their history laid bare
by the aurorae of my own
self-discovery

a never-ending repose aside
these quiet hills I walk with you

 
© K. James Ribble

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s