The mountains aren't near enough to heaven
When all we know and dream about is here.
Each moment plays a melody so pure
No angel can beatify it more.
Though primed for death, our first response is fear.
Years of simple joys can last forever.
No eternity can long endure
Its exile from devotion, still and clear;
Nor can one feel the ecstasy of living
Except one breathe the cold, fresh mountain air.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon