Its sharpened rock point up
towards the space around our planet
the azure blue
we watch
as summer warms its craggy forms
a row of witches hats
their brew the clouds
their voice the icy blasts
or whistles through the cracks

remote
aloof
its presence unperturbed
it lords the valley from above
below its ample weight
small houses made of wood and painted red
among the grassy greens and darker firs

Margaret Ann Waddicor 16th March 2016