the way each of our five senses can appreciate a mountain
PEAKS OF SENSATION
I SEE THE MOUNTAIN.
Travelling up in an aeroplane I see, in the sunset tinted sky,
A whitey pink high mountain peak, as over it we silently fly.
Is it a sharp, craggy sword piercing each cloud on our flight,
Or a land of dreaming fantasies confusing my passing sight?
I HEAR THE MOUNTAIN
The music, is it that of Grieg, echoing down a mountain scarp?
Are the sounds of the icy mountain stream trickling in E sharp?
Do I hear, in mountain caves, waves lapping towards the shore?
The hammering sound is it mining gold for the mountain‘s store?
I SMELL THE MOUNTAIN
Sparse grass and shrubs give off a scent redolent of a mountainside
Also I can smell pure mountain air as I tramp up green slopes wide.
The sea foam’s scent is blown so high I sniff it on the mountain top
And flowers give off a perfume sweet as to the mountain foot I drop.
I TOUCH THE MOUNTAIN
I can feel the mountain’s slippery rocks protruding from either side
I pat a goat, and watch it jump to a ledge off which it can never slide.
I clutch gorse stumps to steady myself as on the mountain side I slip
For mountains are high and I might die if I tripped and lost my grip.
I TASTE THE MOUNTAIN
Feeling hungry I pick the mountain berries, their soft sweet fruit to eat,
And the mountain’s soft snow, in winter time, when fresh eaten is a treat.
Now for a drink I kneel at the mountain stream, my thirst there to quench
But, if amorous, amid the mountain’s flowers, I may kiss my lovely wench.