The Sentinel Song

Strong, silent and

steadfast they stand,

austere, principled,

the sentinels of our land.

Pure, pristine,

crowned in white,

caressing the heavens,

a glorious sight.

Soothing, serene,

bare or green,

their timeless beauty,

is felt, not seen.

Then there is no turning back.

The call

of the sentinels,

once heard

cannot be

ignored.

Pulsing through veins

with every heartbeat

hear the single

message repeat.

The heart races

up a steep ascent,

to glimpse the world

from atop

then for a moment

comes to a stop.

An annual pilgrimage

to pay homage

with reverence

to the existence

of our sentinels.

Fulfilled and content, I return.