She’ll be coming down the mountain

Colin Cafferty

She’ll be coming down the mountain
In a gown of ivory white
Pleated frills twelve fathoms deep
And studded with serac pearls
Embroidered on a bodice
Of finest snowflake lace 

She’ll be coming down the mountain
Like a bride walks down the aisle
With rows of towering pews
Rising skyward on each side
And a train that sweeps the valley
Great waves of flowing ice

She’ll be coming down the mountain
Plucking boulders from the land
Carving horns and cirques in slopes
Imprinting wisdom for an Age
Telling stories to the children
Whose birth may never come

She’ll be coming down the mountain
Till she can’t come down no more
And she’s forced into retreating
To the altar in the sky
Seeking solace in the highlands
Rocky birthplace of her soul

She’ll be coming down the mountain
Meltwater streaming down her face
Tattered dress stained by smoke
Sagging on her thinning frame
Great chunks of fabric lost
As she calves into the sea

She’ll be coming down the mountain
Till the trauma grows too great
The air no longer frigid
The ice no more replaced
For her marriage to the land
Is dissolving in the sea