As the rolling mountains dip, curve and fold,
their edges and outlines unknowable,
their presence a work of art.
No shape or frame ever the same,
we look a little like these mountains, you and I.
Our lives chiseled and unpolished,
we are established, but evolving still.
Beautiful, unpredictable, worthy of a little wonder.
I hope we’ll grow up to be as resilient as these hills,
telling tales of storms weathered,
and whispering of fortitude built.
Growing with grace,
beauty defined by each cutting edge.
A credit to the hands of the crafter.