First Glimpse of the Rockies

I saw them first as whispers—shadows drawn
Where sky met stone in silent, steadfast grace,
Ancient sentinels of time long gone,
Yet breathing still in morning’s warm embrace.

Their rugged peaks, unbowed, unbroken,
Carved by wind and story’s weight,
A quiet hymn in rock unspoken,
Resilience sung in steadfast fate.

And when the dawn, with fingers light,
Brushed amethyst upon their face,
They stood in hues of burning might—
A testament to time and space.

The golden aspens wept their leaves,
A quiver in the autumn breeze,
The elk’s lone call, the soaring flight,
Of eagles locked in love’s release.

The ponderosa whispered low,
Its vanilla scent like memory’s thread,
While brook and waterfall did flow,
Through valleys where the wild had fled.

Yet as I stood, so small, so fleeting,
Beneath their towering majesty,
I felt my troubles fall, retreating,
Like dust upon eternity.