CeeCee Yan

A Mountain Overture Beneath the Alps

I met this mountain feast at dawn, the moment I pushed open the window. The wind rushed in, carrying the damp scent of pine needles and fresh grass. Lifting my eyes, I saw the Alps stretching their boundless arms in the morning light. The distant peaks wore crowns of silver, their snow gleaming with a sacred glow beneath the rising sun. Dark gray mountain faces, like ancient books worn smooth by time, stood in silent devotion, bearing this purity upon their backs.