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MT. WHITNEY

that first glance
blinding white
like a lightning strike
speared by the sun

she rises above all others
proud and singular in her regal robes
her statement never challenged
by all those nestled at her feet

a tiny winding road leads to her granite walls
dancing with patterns of playful sunshine,
between her well-formed breasts
Porter Falls cascades in gracefulness

the afternoon sun graces her faces,
of the surprises she hordes for us
wild flowers are still a favorite
overshadowed by looming conifer trees

no abstract painter can sketch
this monument with only words
her faces glisten with sheer bliss
no shadows dare slide down her sides

pools of white drench her hidden pockets
light and white meet in cold embrace
the sun knows where to lay its shadows
all the while caught in her crevices

clouds all misting overhead
halo her well-framed head,
from a respectful distance
they behold her in her wedding white

— Jan. 2, 2010

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