Born From the Peak by William Smith

The peak of pink, she wears lilac spring chic.
 With morning skin, she bathes in Sun's fresh gaze.
 The fog, viscous, a rising nest for sheep,
 lay heavy and deep like youth's guileless haze.
 Iridescent light’s purple hum is sung
 by clouds hung on waves of baby blue sky.
 "Arise!" The leaves do scream. "The day's begun
 stretching inside eternity's broad eye!"
 Am I apart of this now rising scene,
 an extension of this surreal event?
 Am I, the ape, born from the peak's pink sheen?
 Where does it come from, the life I've been lent?

 I watch, I weep, I wane, and I wonder
 "Where do I end, and where starts the lender?"

Photo by Jordan Wozniak on Unsplash