The gryphon stands alone upon the mountain top,
watching the valley below its nest upon an old gray rock.
Seeing all with eagle eyes in the valley below,
thinking thoughts within its mind that no mortal man will know.
The air is split with its roar as it spreads its mighty wings,
and soars over the valley, its air fresh with spring.
It flies higher than the mountains, the wind rushing through its mane,
A true prince of the air, a beast no man can tame.
To a stream hidden by all, lands this fearsome beast,
to bathe in the cool clear water, and of fish does it feast.
It then lays in the sunlight, warmed by the breath of spring,
and falls asleep in the sun, there by the hidden stream.
When it awakes and stands , no figure is more proud,
than the gryphon walking alone, as silent as a cloud.
With grace untold it does run, and with a mighty leap,
it takes to the air on silver tipped wings, back to its mountain keep.
There upon the mountain high above the clouds,
stands a gryphon, all alone, ever brave and proud.
Thinking thoughts no mortal man can ever hope to know,
and seeing all with eagle eyes in the valley below.
Sean D. Rasmussen