Back Karen St. James - The Mountain Next

They were almost at the trails end
Camped in their wagons for the night
Snuggled under colored quilts made
From scraps back home, so bold and bright.

The pine trees, like a fortress
Protected with their boughs of snow
Quietly in the crispy stillness
They whispered softly to those below.

The night was clear, stars twinkled
Inviting all to take a look
The moon was rising just behind
The snowy mountain they called Mt. Hood.

They'd watched that mountain on the trail
And stood in awe to gaze

Sometimes pink in sunset's glow or
An island floating in purple haze.

Though she'd be draped in cloud banks
And often lost to man and horse
Just when their hope was at it's' ebb
She'd reappear to guide their course.

First seen in autumn's bareness gray
Now in winter's cloak so white
She sparkled in her gemmed array and
Promised peace throughout the night.

It seemed they'd never make it
"They left too late", the others'd said
And storms blew down to block their path
Or mud pulled at their wheels instead.

And little Tommy, why it was bad
It took a week to see him through
And while they waited, the snow returned
To lock their thoughts in icy blue.

Yet, tonight all was serene and
Yes, it seemed the worst was done
All thoughts were on the land ahead
And what they soon would call their home.

Two more days, or maybe three
And their travelin' would be done
And she would be there, that Mt. Hood
Just a shinin' in the sun!

This site is jointly produced and maintained by James Herbert and The Vision Factory. All art is copyright of the respective artist.