Mountains

Mountains
Silently rose to meet me
Dark, sullen, aloof
Frowned, bristling with black forests
Shoulder to shoulder
Steep cliffs and cold
pools mirrors of melting ice
and blackened tree stumps among the pristine white
The basalt bones
Rip open the soft velvet of soil
Leaf buds are still a-slumber,
Perching on frozen branches
A she-deer is slowly trudging through this field of whiteness
Spring is not yet come