They stand so high, above water so,

Cold and Icy,

Layered with white, powdery snow

Stretched for miles.

Clouds rest over this land of winter

And such a quiet peace,

Although the wind blows across the

Chilly water, and lonely mountain tops.

There are slopes of wet snow

That melt and flow down into a lake,

When the sun shines on it,

Sparkles like shiny glass.

Icicles hang from ridges that have

Lived for some time,

Formed over centuries, and in

Time,

Beautiful mountains, these

White mountains.

Keith Garrett