Tuesday, December 1, 2015

The Mountain by A.S. Washington

When the thunder speaks,
Not an inch does he move,
Standing still at his peak,
His heartbeat every avalanche,
He is kind and unfriendly,
Shelter of many and friend to none--
Conquered by the brave and skilled,
Yet each murder lingers,
For why did they think,
He would not have his say. 

For every shelter he provides,
Life he claims as recompense,
Flinching not to the coming rain,
Bothered not by the howling wind,
Neither laughing nor frowning,
He remains ever the sleeping giant,
Wide awake, to swallow men whole,
The most dangerous killer--
For when he is quiet,
He is most deadly.

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