When the Mountains Are Smoking
When the mountains are smoking,
Veils of ash weave through the dawn,
Silent peaks whisper secrets,
To the winds, both fierce and gone.
Embers pulse in granite’s heart,
Clouds of soot embrace the sky,
Time itself holds breath in stillness,
As the earth lets out a sigh.
Fire dances, shadow sways,
Moss and stone in quiet burn,
Mountains dream through ancient haze,
Waiting for the world to turn.
