"Yes," I said.
"Well, not as beautiful as the mountains back home,
which poets find so fascinating in their purpleness
from all the greenery that grows on them,
but beautiful nonetheless"
"'Cause, you know, I'm not used to them,
being from Montana and all…" he continued,
"they are, like, small and … not green…?"
"You have a point, but have you looked
and seen all the colours:
I see red, I see pink, I see yellow, I see grey,
I see other shades of the above and here and there
a streak of purple, or maybe green…
I also like the shapes of the rocks -
some flat, some pointing in all directions
and the defined strata with their
straight multicoloured diagonal lines going up and down…
Yes, I think the mountains here are beautiful.
Not as beautiful as the mountains back home,
but beautiful nonetheless."
He gave them another long look and nodded in agreement