Friday, January 4, 2013


Massive mountains tower
Over dusty Tehran,
But they cast no shadows –
Such is the deft movement
Of the parching hot sun
Making its daily run.

Most of the smog smeared year
The high mountains merge with
The haze that masks their peaks
And their vastness recedes
Until the breeze blows clear
And peaks and crags seem near.

When dirty air withdraws
A glance detects one more
Distinct summit of size
That dwarfs its neighbors’ heights,
Volcanic in its shape -
Serene in its white cape.

The cone of Damavand
Rises and makes it known
That even stone has grace,
Presence, and stands supreme –
Set stark against blue sky.
Steep slopes delight the eye.

Jaded tourists look up.
Nonchalant Tehranis
Turn knowing heads to see
The sight that stays the same -
Perfect never changes
Above charcoal ranges.

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