Mountain

the life of a mountain

Mountain

I am but what was long time ago a mighty mountain

Once covered with bird singing woods millennium oaks

Winds combed my greenly mane of weeping willow

Satyrs, nymphs drank, bathed in my brooks and ponds

Leaned down on my stones in my sun protected shades

Then flayed me of my forest, logging to make houses and ships

They intruded in my belly stripping my veins of gold and silver

Defaced me quarrying stones like the Paros white marble

Then dug me for my fat of old digested forests of black coal

I am but what was long time ago a mighty mountain

Just a hole in the ground, lifeless hollow of windblown dust