One day these hills will be all we have left.
The thickened pines and needle laden tracks
That rise to summits formed of smooth and serrated granite;
One day I will raise my eyes to these peaks
And see in them the only
Faces of familiarity I can find.
Life is like that.
Everything changes.
The ones we love the most leave
Empty hollows like abandoned
Caverns above the falls,
And darkness spreads where light’s erased
In the the narrow crevices of time.  

One day I will be an old soul, alone in a wicker chair,
Looking to the reddened sky behind the peaks;
Faces I have loved streaming by
And lifting to the wind
That shakes the leaves all the way to the spires of
The ever-constant hills.
They have watched generations rise and fall,
And how I love you like a fire
Burning in the fragile spaces
Between the roughened cliffs
That encroach upon us all.