Greg Williamson
Mountains
 

Up lateral moraine, arête, cirque, crest—
From Ovid onward mountains have been touted
As symbolizing the poetic quest
(“And there’s a story in a book about it”),

But looks like you, who made of, in the long run,
Mountains molehills and of molehills mountains
“Of huge despair,” (aw nuts) climbed up the wrong one,
No muse here, no Pegasus, no fountains,

Until, “deceived into thinking that you have progressed,”
You send the Sherpa packing and in lieu
Of laurels, in the shadow of the mountains,
Find a plain, pine sounding board to rest
On, listening, with a sense of privilege, to
The “old and solemn harmony”
                                            of mountains?

 

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