Scarlet Ribbons

Thin scarlet ribbons edge the sky at dawn,
the moon has set, the stars have fled and gone,
the mountain's dog-toothed silhouette stands bleak
above the eastern hills. It’s been so long

since I could see that lonesome Cascade peak
where snowflakes fall like tears upon your cheek
when you are lost in swirling, killing clouds—
replaced now by a few thin scarlet streaks.

Today the mountain’s laid aside her shroud
and overlooks the city’s bustling crowds
in sunshine, cold as ice and white as bone.
A mistress beautiful, but harsh and proud

though still it lifts my heart to see her there.
She's wearing scarlet ribbons in her hair.

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