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Miss the Mountains

I pine for eternal snows -
hanging higher when draped in white;
Whe I went there and my breath blew
hard and visible, I derided city life:
the belching buses, the encapsulated airplanes;
Where are these people going anyway?
What vacuum is sucking their heads dry?
Where is is wrttten that they cannot enjoy
a simple dawn, and foresee what can be done with life?
In lieu of mesmerizing clocks, adjusted
by governments; damned be Ben Franklin,
who it is said jokingly inventede 'saving' time...
Lousy joke that, as it kills the lovelorn hills
Grasping twilight that comes too late
in the polluted summer dew.

poem by Stan Petrovich
Added by Poetry Lover
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