From Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood
Mountains that are looked at have a particular grace,
some are rounded and gentle, others have a wildness
of spirit, the sharp rock face of invincibility.
Still others beckon with deceptive calm, luring the unwary
with their raw beauty, heads buried in clouds, sunlight
dancing on meadows like sky fingers. The great rock god
Of the mountains sleeps with one eye open to catch eagles
and elk, wind and rainbows, the strong of limb who climb
those peaks because a mountain lives inside them.
Mountains that are looked at look back with the pleasure
of old women locked in the gaze of new admirers,
so glad for attention, so wary of strangers. Mountains
That are looked at increase in beauty from so much looking
and live on in memory long after we are gone from them,
remembering the hint of immortality there and the way
We were possessed by rock. Mountains that are looked at
look back with authority and the promise of tomorrow,
which is why some people die for them.