Only the Mountain

By Jane S. F. Angel

We have come here in our summer frocks

To address the mountain.

We were told it would reveal to us

All its wisdom.

We stand with our bare feet

On a patch of snow

And listen to the winds howl among

The jagged pinnacles of rock.


We are not dressed for this climb.

I wear my favourite sun hat

And my sister Patricia has on that pink dress,

The one she made for Mummy’s garden party.


It grows dark, dangerous to linger.

Out of the gloom flies a huge owl,

Bigger than any bird we have ever seen.

Its wings beat down the cold air

Its silent flight takes it soaring up

To the summit of the mountain.


My sister gasps.

Easy to mistake it for a trick of the fading light,

This bird, this owl, this omen.


Hand in hand we walk down the steep path

To the hunting lodge.

We warm our frozen feet by the fire.

Did you find the mountain’s wisdom-they ask.

No-we say- All we saw was an owl

Or did we?

1 thought on “Only the Mountain

  1. Pingback: The event on Friday 6 February | Until Only the Mountain Remains

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