My Mountain (a poem) written in 1981

I seem to be accustomed to mountains.

Raised in the valleys beneath The Rockies,

I found, as I grew up, a security in those tall solid structures,

Which cast long shadows into the valley,

As the sun seemed to catch one last dream before arising.

Yes, I love the mountains.

From the valley floor you view the mountain

In a fine perspective from top to bottom.

Your eyes can capture its expanse

From the highest peak, to its broad wide base.

Between the valley floor and the highest peak, is the climb.

Both top and bottom soon obstructed by trees, winding trail, and gradual climbing;

Confused by cliffs and crevices, hills and canyons.

Who would expect so many hills and valleys

Upon one mountain face?

And yet, in reflection, it is true.

I pondered the mountains as I lived in the valleys.

I reverenced the mountain as I stood upon its peak.

But I discovered the mountain as I scaled her sides,

Entered her canyons, slept in her crevices,

And in the end, it was the climbing

That made the mountain mine.

Now I find that my life

Is much like climbing mountains,

Living in the valley, sitting on the peaks. . .

But mostly a day to day climbing over steep slopes

And through rocky canyons,

An uncertain winding trail ahead.

Yet, I seem to be accustomed to mountains.

And in the end, it will be the climbing

That makes the mountains mine.

By Sherri Scovill Crowley

Written in Asahigawa, Japan in 1981