In the valley low the air is full and rich
meandering streams flow to and fro
tendril shadows are long and dark below
as one peers up and into the distance

There is a majesty in mountain elevations
a pure thin air to be breathed
filtered by tall grown pines and spruce
thunder rumbles down mountain sides
the voice of Thor, crying out to man

Gathered Stratus clouds filled with condensation
seek to touch or cap these glorious peaks
dressing them in a shroud of mist and dew
hiding the blush of breasting sun from view

The dichotomy Crimson light of the setting sun
resemble fire and ice on the snowy crest
the roof of the world contains us within
a vast culmination of all natures creation