The Mountains Look Fake Today

When I would run, I often noticed that the mountains looked fake in the distance. This poem was written in my head as I ran around the streets of Grantsville. I never wrote it down though, until July 10, 1997. I was in San Diego at the FHA National Convention. I'd had a fight with my roommate and was spending the night on the porch. This is what I kept saying in my head, so I grabbed my notebook and finally wrote it down. 

Age 15, before 10th grade

The Mountains Look Fake Today

There is no cloud in the sky today. The sky is the brightest blue.

The sun is shining bright today. It's magical.

 The trees are green with life. The breeze is gently blowing.

The birds are singing sweetly. It's beautiful.

Yet, looking to the distance... Across the horizons all I see...

The mountains look fake today.

Like someone's painted them on...Chose the colors, and the shape.

Like they stabbed the world... like a picture.

The mountains look fake today.

The sun warms the way. The breeze keeps it cool.

The animals all play. It's mystical.

Spring is all around. It's like heaven, on earth.

Songs are in the air. It's wonderful.

On the most perfect day, I look to the distance.

The mountains look fake today.

Like a cruel joke. Like it doesn't belong.

Like the snow is not real. The trees are not there.

The mountains look fake today.

But from the top, so does the trees. And so does the birds' song from afar.

And fans can make the breeze, but they are all real.

So who painted them? With the brush and paints?

God made them all, even the mountains.

So the mountains are perfect today.