Centuries of chiseled sharp perfection,
Carving out dramatic walls of shear
chalk and stone, yet native soil between,
To harbor verdant vegetation.
An ancient sheet of ice, sat, eons, on the shelf,
Creating walled enclosure in its melt
the ice-blue thaw, to rest for ages more,
Refilling clear with mountain water floe.
Behind these walls are hidden caverns deep,
With echo chambers dark, circuitous,
Where hikers and spelunkers wander in
to lose their way, perhaps to ne’er come back.
As night falls fast, the denizens crescendo,
One can listen close to hear the sounds
of cave explorers, who dallied much to long,
And now must feel their way to moonlight.
A special place, for brave hearts and for meek,
To venture forth or merely to inhale
the mountain air, sensing pulsing life,
Within this blue-green bowl of clarity.