Mid-July and the top is down
we’re driving towards the mountain
as if we can climb it with our 4 cylinder
and never look back
The sun is high, but hot enough
to flush the pink out of the palest skin
Rows of wildflowers and crops drift
out beside us like ocean waves
as we drive faster and faster
toward the “Great White Watcher”
the natives say is a man that left
his flock tagging behind
and I say is a woman
majestic and beautiful
stark white against the bright blue sky
with her sisters in tow
Squint your eyes against the unyielding light
and you can see her there
with her smaller mountain sisters to the right
She is constant, vigilant
A mother overlooking us all.
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