sábado, 4 de janeiro de 2025

Rounded tops

 Flat mountain faces protruding shamelessly elongated on purpose
crying against the humid immensity occupying the dark mass of rock
summer bombarded by thick cloudful mornings

The rock itself alive with the shimmer of moisture
that some pre midday shard of light illuminates
Begging for evergreens to establish themselves up it's peaks
To hide themselves from the uncertain extremes

Those mountains talk to the sky in solemn request
whining as the human ants climb
Bald areas once lush and enticing 
Impacted by the fires of negligence

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