The Mountain of Eye (I)

Below me are vast vistas and I think I have done it all.   And help is something I brush off like tiny snowflakes on my massive shoulders.  The air is here is rare and forbidding,  most of you feel dizzy but not I.   

I changes the clouds at my pleasure,   like play-doh structures I inscribe wit.  Then I chuckle as philosophies are made,   some silly cottage industry for those with shutters.   The ice and snow with their biting teeth surround me.   They sit on trees and fall with a thud.  You better not stand there.   Just saying.

I like to laugh but not too loud or I wait for the spring to cast off this shimmering shroud.  As it does I permit streamlets to form, with water so pure but only I can drink.    I might let you take a sip from others for sure,  but I won’t let you ingest the sum of my I best.

by Larry Olson,  01/15/2014

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