Nevada

a trip taken when I was 15.

As we drove through the mountains in the wee hours of the morn, I noticed the glory and splendor with which the mountains were born.

As they rise majestically in the blue Nevada sky touching their peaks where the white seagulls fly.

They show of deep brown and shadows of red as the sun beats down from high over head.

My eyes do not see of the wonders I know, the tales of the mountains of long, long ago.