on a pedestal under a tree
the strong and silent type
than part of humanity
I’d rather be a tall sprawling mountain
with a blanket of snow on my face
with dangerous icy passes
forbidding the human race
a river quietly flowing through a valley
on its way to a mighty sea
going where it wants to go
that’s what I’d rather be
never ending waves of motion
an ocean washing up on shore
never ending waves of motion
then out again once more
a north wind blowing in
sending a chill through the air
throwing bitter cold daggers
here, there, and everywhere
