Summer bleeds a scab of green onto the valleys below the rocky ridges. Minerals corrupt glacial waters, stagnating into a magnificent blue. You came for the skies that reflect on the paper pleated dresses of the columbine. Snowcaps standing behind, looming in last night’s tuxedos. The smear of lipstick on a lapel is called cardinal red. The indian paintbrush proof of a prurient embrace. Apathetic mountain. Freezing rain arrives swiftly, pinging hail sideways off your face, yet you returned. I want to be just as unpretentious, my love. Would you come back to climb me?