Praise for the Mountain

If I were a cow

I would roam beneath a mountain

and drink from a cool stream.

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If I were an Arrowleaf flower

I would grow on a mountain hillside

and smile proudly at the hikers passing by.

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If I were the remains of an old mining cable

I would stare at the mountains

and remember a time

when miners depended on my strength

to transport their coal.

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If I were a wooden bridge

I would keep walkers safe as they crossed

and as they stopped in my middle

to admire the the mountain stream view

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And if I were a mountain

I would look to the clouds and smile.

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If only…

… this tree could speak. Yes, this is ONE tree, not a cluster. I imagine it to be between 300 and 500 years old. If it could talk, it would tell me about my great-great grandparents who immigrated to America from Germany in the 1840’s. It would tell me how it watched as my grandfather, and later, my mother, took their first steps. It would fill this mind with my more of my family’s personal stories.

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