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Every morning,
I am awestruck
by the palette of colors
from the rising of the sun.
They are brilliant and bold,
yet soft and gentle
at the same time.
There are reds,oranges,blues,
yellows, pinks, and purples
sweeping across the sky.

The mountain peaks
are of a purplish color.
The mountains stand there
majestically daring anything,
except astral objects
in the sky,
to be higher than them.
The peaks stand with
a snowy layer that lasts most of the year.

As we head grocery shopping,
the car gets closer and
nearer to the mountains.
The ride is a crap shoot
whether you will come back alive.
It whirls and twirls like girls
throwing a baton.
The thoroughfare also undulated
like a roller coaster.
Some guy is passing us on the
path at a much too dangerous speed.

As we go further and further
up the mountain,
we see a beautiful green covering of trees.
Pine trees abound,
with their sharp, little green needles
in a swirling pattern around the trees.
There are also the pine cones
with tan layers upon dark brown undercoats
in a somewhat triangular shape.
The aroma will make your sense of smell purr.
These trees go higher and higher
up the mountain,
but they are not near the peaks.

As we head back to the house,
there is the sun going down.
Once again there are a multitude
of spectacular colors.
There were blues, purples,
grays, pinks, oranges, and reds.
They form a swirling motion
much like stirring
the dough for cookies.

We returned home safe and sound.
I did what I have been
trying to do all day: respire.
It is hard to inhale
from higher elevation,
and as much as I try,
I never find a good breath of air.
I loved seeing my sister.
It was really a blast,
but I'd rather breathe than stay.

Randi

I remember many a sunset like that.your poem paints a nice sunset.