Today's poem is by Annie Finch

Death and the Mountain
       

You're like a mountain made of warmth
That births a river made of touch
Where stones of time have tumbled forth
Catching the light that loves so much.

The dark that loves is what we feel,
However, in our nighttime path.
Look how open and bright she comes
Together with us, coming death!

She is the mother in the rose,
The burrow, and the sainted breath.

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Copyright © 2023 Annie Finch All rights reserved
from Rattle
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission