The Drenched Range

Wrapped in the wraith-like filaments
of white mist, the mountains hide
their slopes, rockfalls and valleys.
The grandeur of the summits
invisible behind the gathering of
fog under clouds sheathing the
granite giants, reaching down from
a sky unable to maintain the
burden of holding them aloft,
heavy with water vapour which
suddenly burst their confines as
sheets of rain pummel the peaks
and their treed slopes, drenching
the landscape with the magical
intensity of colour that only rain
can muster, piercing the still
rising mists and the fog with
shades of white and ivory, grey
and purple moved by the wind in
fantastical shapes imagining
themselves as dragons of the heights
and sea monsters of the lake that
lies beneath; all comrades of the
trolls manipulating the theatrical
draperies hovering over, around
and throughout the range, this day.