RedRavenPoems

With crashing booms and thunderuous roars. From the ground the mountain soars.

Plates of earth deep and wide. Crash and bend to put surprise.

Folding upwards towards the sky. They form the hillsides that are so high.

Like jagged teeth they pierce the clouds. Make us often say holy cow.

I feel so small when I look at them. I’m like an ant, before their size.

But with time they wither away, to the hills on which we run and play.

Or else with rips and tears of the earth. Shuddering breaking into dirt.

They collapse again with devastation. Mudslides become their destination.