when i stand still on a fall afternoon with the sun blazing behind me and its rays warming their western flanks–they seem much closer to me than these photos indicate.
the haze from the desert and mist from the ocean conspire to hide the mountains from the encroaching destruction of civilization.
someone had the foresight to protect them, a national forest for now, but the march of progress continues unabated right up to their flanks (sweaty like an over-worked horse, trembling with exhaustion.)
and if i live long enough i will, or perhaps after i’ve passed, someone else will, stand here and wonder how we could have erred so grossly. and if the mountains had ever stood a chance.
and the mountain will just roll over like a restless sleeper finding a more comfortable position in which to dream.