The mountain sits in dominance
over the valley, alone.
It too was once flat land, prairie.

The rivulets and streams sing this tale.

The mountain replies,
This is only echo and rumor.

Great pines dig into its body,
to find the cold water deep in, grow tall
to midriff, nearly to shoulder.

Birds rise and perch, chattering

about life
in the lowlands, where food
and seed are more abundant.

The mountain begins to wear down,
the way a man grows bald
from too much thinking.