in the mountains the sun is rising
and though I am not there
I see it clearly just the same
the air is thick with morning mist
the valley wet with dew
the coffee pot is on the fire
a breeze wakes the rhododendrons
as they stir and shed the night
in crystal droplets like tears of joy
and I know how they feel
as in the east the mountain profile
becomes a silhouette
gold transforms to rose and pink
and orange and tangerine
the alchemy of dawn has come
I pour my steaming morning cup
and start some bacon in my pan
the sun has breached the sky
yet there is silence in the air
the world may take its quiet repose
I am the king of the mountains
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