Early afternoon, soft and warm

shifting to clouds of force.

It amazes me to watch

the clouds throw themselves

at the mountain’s face

hurling thunder

and lightning

across the sky

like a battle raging overhead.

Late evening

the mountains still stands

silent, strong, winning

yet another struggle with the storm.

Countless centuries of rain and wind

thunder and clouds

beating mercilessly against her

yet she stands silent strong.

Now that it’s all past

the only thing I have to hold is

the memory of the thunder

beating on the mountains

the sunset mellowing into night

the river water dances down to the sea

the memory is fair and kind

and will remain as a picture in my mind.

Never to be forgotten.