Mountain Poems

These are original PineTreePoet mountain poems. They were all written away from the physical and emotional constraints of plastic, steel, and concrete. Please share this list of mountain poems with your adventurous, outdoorsy, sunshine-loving, all-day-hiking friends & family.

The mountains are where I feel alive and connected. To myself, others, and the natural world. And it’s in the mountains that I believe the best poetry is born.

My favorites? Numbers 2, 20, 31, and 37. Which are yours?



I trade my time

and soles

for mountain views.


They dwell in the city

and talk about

mountain people

and beach people

like they’ve unlocked

some great secret to tranquility.

But it’s no secret that

plastic and steel and concrete

can easily, handily, unceasingly

by nature’s eternal beauty,

be beat.


If you’re looking for love

go to the mountains.

Even if you meet no one there

you’ll come back




in love.


If a poor man sent his lenders

to the forest to collect their debts

they’d soon be found

quite naturally content

to shuffle under pines

scurry up steep climbs

and to bask in such wild sunshine

that very soon they’d forget

the owed large money lent.

I’ve written many mountain poems in Grayson Highlands State Park. Tap here for my favorite Grayson Highlands photos.


The stream cut the trail

tumbling down the mountain

and we splashed like kids

tumbling into each other

and into ourselves

and deeper into the wild.


It is unfair

to man’s greatest achievements

to behold a mountain sunrise.


My fears about mortality

I showed the grandeur of the Rockies

the mysteries of Sedona

and an Appalachia sunrise

and they laid down their arms.


Follow your own path in life

just make sure

to see a few desert canyons

climb a few cold mountains

and stop and smell the pine trees

every chance you get.


You don’t seem the mountain type

so I won’t be seeing you again

with your plastic preoccupations

thought I’m sure you’d be an okay friend.


In the mountains

your nighttime company

are owls and cicadas

or stars

and I really don’t think

you can go wrong.


The rugged trail said to me

follow me

deeper and deeper

into your own soul.


Spend more time

in the mountains

so you spend less time

thinking about

your bank account.


And then again

maybe we’ve all sold out

our reverence for nature

for some normalcy

amongst our kind.


Stillness is the playground

of Earth’s wildest things.


Bad news doesn’t travel well

in the mountains.

Nobody’s paying attention

what with all that natural connection.


A sweaty hat

dunked in a mountain river

solves quite a few problems.

Shop trucker hats with our partner, Wicked Trail



to a tall mountain

and a big blue lake

and a trail-crossing


sun-seeking snake.


People who always

talk about gratitude

are usually mountain people

and though their incessance

can be droning

I surely get it.


Soup in December

cooling but still hot

thoughts of melting mountains

we’ve entertained not.


Painters have it easy

I’ll have to remember this view

with my cumbersome

fragile camera

I’ll have to make do.


Mountains are the gentlest giants

guarding us by grandeur

from our material superstitions.


I can hardly blame

the weekend throngs

for loving the mountains

as much as I.


I never saw

a mountain

I didn’t like.


My neighbor asked

where I spent my weekends

and I told her among the pines

I said I couldn’t bear

long grocery store lines.


One wretched




evening in the mountains

is better than any alternative.


A new year

and I’m still here

surrounded by hims and hers

people suffocated with affection

for fancy false furs.

I’d rather see the creatures alive

climbing and running and calling

I’d rather stumble up a mountain

and spend a night beneath stars, falling.


But instead of cities

imagine mountains

and instead of buildings

imagine trees

and instead of people

imagine stars


Steal a kiss

from the mountain’s generous wind

and she’ll turn you into a prince

of no great desire.


I don’t wear sunglasses

in the mountains

because I’m afraid to filter out

some new shade of sky

or new bend of green in a leaf

or a glimpse of the spirit

that fills my lungs

with such wild laughter.


I looked in the mirror

and I saw

trees and mountains

all around me.


The trees recruited me

and I recruited my friends

and they brought theirs

and now we’re all here

to listen to nature’s big pitch

and it sure isn’t some racket

we’re very eager to ditch.


It should be written

on every billboard

along every highway:

“Visit the mountains

because soon

you’ll be dead.”


Flowers in the mountains

have a particular way

of making me smile

at the ground.


I’ve good reason to suspect

the mountains are happiest

when we’re under their pines,

laughing and splashing

staring and crashing [sleeping]

beneath their needly green blinds.


What do you make

of peoples’ anxieties?

I asked the mountain.

I’ve no knowledge of it,

she said.


I think if the world

ever did end

I’d like to watch it happen

from a mountaintop

with a bag of granola.


Wear hiking boots

to my funeral

and then take the smiles

my life left upon you

into the mountains

to live forever.


Greener than money

taller than pride

prettier than music



So long as I’m a stranger

to towering mountains and ancient pines

I cannot live with staying away

and to feel at home

beneath such rugged grandeur

I’ll never see the day.


I had a strong opinion

about something

I wanted to say

to many people

but it left me

when my boots touched

this mountain dirt

when a grey cloud sprinkled

upon my dirty shirt.


There is somewhere in between

spending every day in the mountains

and spending no days in the mountains

I want to inhabit,

with a good preference

to the former.


When I grow up

I want to live

in the mountains.


I drove into the mountains

and thought about

how I didn’t need much.

Maybe just a good pair of boots

and a backpack

for my socks and such.


People who spend more time

in the mountains

smile much

much more

and seldom

have a mortal reason why.


People have mishaps and personalities

and so I prefer mountains and pines.

They only stare

and for my inefficiencies

they have no care.


There is nothing

rehearsed, tiresome, or desirous

about the mountains,

and that is why I love them.


The cold air

held my smile’s breath

and perhaps the warmth of my mood

high in the mountains

spread across their lonely peaks.


You should know

I’m easily charmed

by mountains and moss

and early evening owl hoots

so if I ever disappear

and you don’t find me here

it’s possible I’ve laced my boots

and I’m enchanted and tripping

over big knobby roots.



What would pine trees do?

They’d go hang out in the mountains.


Nobody knows why we’re here

but I think I know

why mountains are here.


We should all try

to imitate mountains.

A tall task, I’m sure.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.