I was a log in the waves last time you saw me.
End over end I was thrown while I endlessly groaned:
"Hold my hand! Won't someone come surf me?"
And of course no-one came.

You stood and watched the wash of water wedge me
Hopelessly into the sea wall.
And there I stayed, and quickly decayed.
(Over the course of a billion years)
We all swapped molecules.

Now with a wave of my hand,
I command you to see me,
I'm more like a mountain this time,
Unmoving, alpine, decked in fog.
I'm concealed in snow clouds.
You're the farmer below.

If you've seen my face once,
Then through twelve cloudy months,
You will know that I'm there behind curtains.
You'll know mountain light through thickness of light.
See me.