The mountains—specific,
named: Brandywine, Lions,
Garibaldi and Seymour.
Raven’s barrel rolls, leg’s
gentle burn, meandering
conversations and blue
burning glaciers still
hidden on top ice-aged
shoulders. Unspoiled.
Remember the beer,
cheeseburgers after—
keep them for warm days
in January; when hope
recedes and apathy swells:
hold fast to what is good.
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