Just before dawn,
Pink colors glow
on the mountain peaks.
The snow storm has passed,
leaving everything frigid and silent.
The pink reaches the forest bottom,
Mixing with the brown shadows of
queer trees.
Their trunks rise up through snow,
exposing dark textured bark,
the skin of ancient monsters.
I love their phantasm
The mountain talks with mysteries.
Long ago, some old man
passed through these mountains,
on a horse, headed for Santa Fe.
He came right through these old pines
that kiss southwestern skies,
and catch desert wind.
*I recently watched Ron Howard’s film, The Missing, and the landscape in the movie inspired this poem. The scenery in the film reminded me of similar places I’ve been. That’s why I like Westerns. Some of them provide the awesome landscape photography that envelops the story, and its characters. Ron Howard’s film did an amazing job with the photography!