by Jason Zerbin
I want to hold you oh mountain
like the wisps of a late winter fog
dancing slowly through your knotty pines
and the sea foamed tides
lapping gently at your rocky shore.
I want to watch you from the gaze of a gull
floating without effort around your crooked towers
falling towards you in a rhythm that I don’t create
moved only by the pulsing of wind
pulled up against your sullen outcropping.
I want to love you like a mother bird
sit upon you and keep you warm
and safe from the frigid gale that beats down on you
in attempt to soften your proud spires.