The Mountain Pace

Living in the mountains, high and serene,

Is my quiet escape from the city’s harsh glare,

And the blinding white light where the ocean waves lean.

I seek the deep calm where the timber stands tall,

The cool of the shade where the shadow-lines fold,

Where the birds guard the canopy, watchful and small,

And the wild things move softly through mosses and cold.

It is quiet up here on the ridge of the earth;

The steepness demands that a traveler go slow.

No rushing, no metrics of status or worth—

The hills hold the floor, and we follow their flow.

I have fallen in love with the winding contour,

The small, scattered towns tucked in valleys below,

Where the mist settles low like an unwritten cure,

And the breeze takes the weight that the daylight bestowed.

The slowing of life in the mountain’s embrace

Clears the noise of the world from the mind’s open space;

Here, a man is allowed to establish his pace,

And look out at the earth with a peace on his face.