Poets' Practice Pad

Summer Mountains

Summer mountains,
wild flowers circling their necks
like glittering gems,
conjure up splendor
and my aspirations.
While sunbeams ripple
in clear light strains,
I sense a mountain's soft breath
surrounding me, for I never
lost the wonder
for the mountain winds' songs
chiming against the blue patches of sky
when the peaks, with rhythm,
whisper revelations to
something deep inside me:
“Take nothing with you;
come to me as you are,
uncluttered and complete
in your aloneness.”