Hymn to Black Mountain
Rapture of awakening when the mountain opens slow eyelids, filled with gold tears.
Shadows pool in black wells in its gentle palms and elbow crooks and crevices
As it stretches out, before spilling down in streams; black droplets shaken off by sunrise.
The green gathered gums are shot holy by royal silks
In red and gold and purple as the flower of the sky blooms –
Swimming in an ever-changing aurora, celebrated
By the white flags of flocking birds. Auspices of peace.
And every morning I meditate in that prism of colour
And offer my prayer to the mountain.
Hymn to Black Mountain by Chris Collins was first published by Saccharine Poetry Press in the Autumn of 2020: https://saccharinepoetry.wordpress.com/volume-2-autumn-2020/