Yellow Mountain

Every year the mustard flowers bloom during the Spring and fill the mountain with their bright, vibrant yellow color. Looking from afar, you would think the mountain is covered in velvety yellow. It’s a breathtaking view that I never get bored of.

yellow mountain 1

yellow mountain 2

But there’s more than that about mountains. There is something poetic and inspirational about them that somehow mountains are always mentioned in all the famous poets’ works.

Are you the one
Who’s calling me from far away
Are you the one
Whose voice echoes all over the snow-covered mountain top
Whose whisper travels the air…

– Do the verses sound familiar to you?
– No, whose poems is that? you asked.

Well, it’s one of my poems. During the time I was dating my then-boyfriend now-husband, we took a one week break and I wrote the poem to win his heart. Ok, I’m lying, I did not try that hard since we just clicked. I wrote the poem because I was just silly as that. My sister commented at the time who would read poems these days.

Anyway, I bet you will find the word “mountain” when you open any poem collection. If you have ebooks on Kindle, it will be super easy to do that. Don’t let me know if you failed though, since I wouldn’t want to be disappointed.

I love the smell… of Winter soup simmering… all day on the stove… The white caps on the mountain top as I anticipate the white hair on my head… signaling not my physical survival so much… as my emotional commitment… to life…in all…seasons

(In All Seasons – for Clinton on his 80th birthday celebration – Nikki Giovanni)

I can’t express how much I love Giovanni’s sweetness and vision, writing the former president a poem for his 80th birthday when he was 63 years old.

(By the way, did you notice the mountain top was bolded for you?)

I loved the idea so much I copied it and wrote one for my then-boyfriend. It reads like this:

I wrote you

an 80th happy birthday poem

after our first date to San Francisco

where the sun was too shiny

for my one-week old

PRK-operated light-sensitive eyes


I wrote you

an 80th happy birthday poem

after our first date to San Francisco

and you text messaged me

” It’s a date…”

In between the two paragraphs are my ramblings about where we went, what we ate and how I felt about it. But I will save you from reading it. I guess that’s what happens when you are a copycat.

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