In the quiet dawn, the mountains rise,
A canvas brushed with soft, pink skies,
Veils of mist cling to their mighty slopes,
Whispers of nature, where the spirit hopes.
Pines stand tall, like guardians of old,
Their stories etched in bark, silently told,
Craggy peaks wear a crown of snow,
Reflecting the light in a golden glow.
Streams dance down, with laughter in flow,
Cascading jewels that shimmer and glow,
Wildflowers bloom in a riot of hues,
Painting the earth with morning's muse.
Each valley cradles the sun’s warm embrace,
As shadows stretch long in a gentle race,
Mountains, steadfast, in their majestic way,
Invite our hearts to pause and stay.
So here I stand, in awe of this view,
Where the world feels vast and time feels new,
In the presence of giants, my worries unbind,
In the heart of the mountains, peace I find
