Mountain Poems


Mountain Poems

by Crossroads Writers


Greetings from the Writer’s Group. At camp this year we again sponsored a writing workshop, “WRITING IN THE ROCKIES,” and we had a very favorable response. The participants all came with open attitudes and wrote with enthusiasm on each topic suggested. Especially exciting were the results of the suggestion to write a poem as if “you are the mountain.” Each person’s poem presented his or her own unique perspective. We were so delighted with the poems that we shared them as a group at Coffee Home West, the camp talent show. We thank all who listened and supported us that night. We have submitted our poems to the Web site and the newsletter so that the wider church can read them and participate, too.

Sincerely, Kathy Ralston, Floyd McCain, Althea Gerdes, and Sally Powers



I Am A Mountain

by Althea M. Gerdes

I am a mountain. . .
Climbers climb me
Wanting to go higher.
Trees on me reach to the sky.
No one knows how deep are my roots,
What you see is so little of what I am.
I am billions of years old.
As old as the earth.
Formed of dirt and clay,
Pushed by wind, water, and the movement of the earth.
No one knows the pressure I feel
As I stand up tall into the sky.



by Betty McCain

People don’t understand me.

They think I’m unchanging,

but I have changed.

They think I’m impervious,

but I am affected.The lives of people are not like my life.

They scurry and busy themselves.

I enjoy the changing of the seasons.

They concern themselves with tomorrow.

To me, tomorrow does not exist.Their bodies will cease.

I will exist for millennia.


Mountain Poem

by Debbie Rockford

Welcome new day!

I turn my face to the East

And rest in the warmth of your rays,

While my ancient and honorable foes,

Wind and Rain, gather their forces in the West.


Mountain Voice

by Diane Bourgeois

I and Thou.

 I and Thou always.

I with rock and soil and pools
stretching out beneath You.
I with living things making their way
across and through me.
I yearning for You.

Thou beyond yet through the heavens.
Thou, the true source.

I breathe the blue sky and am touched
by rain and cloud.
I see the stars and comets.
I hear the crickets in my ears
and babies’ cries and doves.

I see You seeing me.
I and Thou.



I, the Mountain

by Kathy Ralston

I, the mountain, soar above the things of earth.

And yet,

my roots go deep.

Deep into the earth,

the bedrock,

the beginning.

While the frozen, eternal snow chills my peak,
I throw a warm blanket of mossy tundra around my shoulders.
Wild flowers weave into the downy comforter.
Pine trees march down my flanks in their rows.
Mighty waters fall in rushing sprays
from my craggy clefts.

The eagle glides above the valley
and returns to the aerie on my high cliff.
Elk and deer graze in my forest and meadow.
In awe the people come, determined to conquer me.
I lift them up as they climb to my true summit.
Briefly they can see the sweeping vista
where I watch eternally: seeing, trusting, holding on.


I Am Mountain

by Sally Powers

Birthed from fire.

ground by glacial ice,

massive against blue sky,

crowned and wrapped by clouds,

weather changes instantly

because of my dimensions.

I am hot or cold;

break out in a sweat at my whim.

Pines and aspens provide drapery
softness to boldness of rock.
Porcupine, marmot, and chipmunk
scratch my tender spots,
tickle my private places.

I dress myself with crowns of clouds,
feathery cloud boas,
thick, snowy blankets,
jewels that glisten like snow.
Pines, ever green, circle my neckline.



by Trevor Ralston

The wind and the cold and the heat;

The day and the night;

Constantly cycle around me,

Changing me and shaping me;

Forming an reforming as I move to the seas.

As I flow just as surely

As the seasons and the tides.

For at the heart, my heart

Moves in the same rhythm

With the flowers and the trees.


Looking Down

by Floyd McCain

You think of me as tall and serene

as I peer down at you

hiking my trails and climbing my walls

but I’m also part of the struggle of life.

Smoke from forest fires burns my eyes

and the charred remains scar my face.

The lack of rain shrivels my vegetation and dries up my streams.

I’m more a part of you than you think.


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