Memories of Angel Mountain

I get my love from memories of you
I do not pray or go to church
I walk the mountains in trousers and hiking boots because the mountain is my dress
It flows with falls and landslides and clouds scalf its peaks. Its warmth its lava flow bright as the sun that explodes into every burrow, window and glacial drop cascading the earth.
It houses grey brown waves and holds your gaze and interest with lifefullness like floating irises of lakes and ponds on an Asian child touching his chin pondering within.