Across the sunlit valley.
Behind the shadow of the proud mountains.
Across the landscape across the world.
There used to be nothing there, my grandfather told me.
Just land, but he planted a sapling, a little small tiny one, he found up the mountain.
The proud mountains.
He planted it. He said it struggled to grow.
He cared and watered it, but it still struggled.
But as soon as the mountains no longer dimmed the sun and he saw the vibrant colours bouncing off the glazed leaves he knew it would grow.
And so it did.
Now I visit it, with a bed of roses and a blanket of sun the tall oak tree is not only special to him. But special to all of us.
The drops of sunlit water came from the mountain.
The mountain is not always an obstacle that will not let you grow.