The pull of the mountains to the North, magnificent summons,
to gaze upon glaciered outcrops, snow covered peaks.
To sense their massive invisible presence among the monsoon clouds,
the Himalayan dream ranging out of sight, far flung and wide.
In span and scale a whole country, a whole land of mountains
stretching beyond imagination and maps to distant valleys and
dreams of hidden springs and Shangri la.
Out-reaching, out stretching their chain of companions,
peaks stretching proud and mighty into the rarefied air.
Sharp ice-splintered rock shaking off the soft cloak of snow,
slopes wrapped lovingly in white powdery blankets.
Roam the rolling foot hills in their shadow,
climb pilgrim steps to uplifted viewpoints,
wonder along valley lakes reflecting white and blue and grey
through the forests and bamboo groves, and panting up slopes,
catching breath while catching sharp glimpses against blue sky.
breathing in the beauty through gaps in green foliage.
Slip and slide along monsoon soaked paths while across the valley
white peaks play hide and seek in heavy monsoon cloud
or float dark and immense above lazy morning mists
unattached from the teaming green growing world below.
On a clear morning from the outlook point in thin crisp air
watch as they step closer in the dawn light.
If only you stretch a little farther your fingers will feel the cold rock,
the cracks and crevasses. The roughness is within reach.
On lazy warm afternoons small clouds settle comfortably
in the hollows and clefts, on the gleaming white shoulders.
Playful, high winds kick up the snow in white waving flags.
Against the blue and white backdrop dark wingspans of spiraling birds
trace secret scripts of ancient Himalayan messages.
At dusk mother sun gives them her full attention, her adoration,
dressing them in turn, wrapping in red and pink and gold and radiance.
Change the backdrop, lift the curtains, swivel the lights,
float the moon past and let colours turn silver and fade softly to sleepy grey nights
filled with their eternal presence.