The Magic Mountain

The Magic Mountain

with apologies to Thomas Mann.

 

Tonight a gibbous moon is bright,

Directly overhead and stars

Illuminate a stygian night

And on the right, the planet Mars.

But muffled thunder greets the day,

And distant lightning looms o’erhead

Illuminating shades of gray

And darkling clouds a watershed.

Dawn breaks over mountain lake

Thick with drizzle, low dark clouds.

Sodden, somber, quite opaque,

Spread around like funeral shrouds.

They’re hovering Mount Garcia now,

Clouds resembling black smoke spreads,

Erupting ash on man and plow

Accompanied by thunderheads.

A crown of clouds rests easily

On Mount Garcia’s ancient brow.

A lord above the brightening lake,

Still over lording here and now.

Gray light emerges from the mist,

From scudding clouds and monsoon squalls,

As Nature to the Taoist,

We’ll find the path as evening falls.

Mark Sconce