The Valley, the Mountain and the Moon
Below the lights come on along the valley floor
Where two rivers come together just below the town
Two swaths of rippling silver in the moonlight
Babbling softly as they flow gently down.
Above a blue moon in August reflects the gold of sunset
No trace of blue about it; not at all.
The bare gray dirty rock reflecting
Mirror, mirror hung up against the starry wall.
And looming up above the vale, snow covered at the rivers' source
The mountain, its summit still touched by light of setting sun.
Some day the monster in its heart will erupt and turn all down below
To smoking wreckage buried; no time to run.
Humans scurry up and down the roads that scale
The valley walls upon their little errands here and there;
A people used to living in destruction's shadow. After all,
It's not the mountain's threat alone, death's waiting everywhere.
Trusting, so they sit the peaceful evenings, watching moons traverse the sky.
The valley people watching light lay dancing shadows in the snow
Upon the craggy flanks; the snow- dappled steaming peak.
And do not think about it, nor do they entertain the fear they do not wish to know.
© 2014 by Tom King