This geologic oddment in the Berkshires,
our looming bald uncle with a busted nose,
with footfall echo of the penultimate Mahican,
unperturbed by pale poets and disturbers of myth,
cool and sober but for champagne spills by the lit’ry set
who re-play Hawthorne and Melville’s chinwag during rain.
Snug as it would fit in the hopper of majestic Mount Greylock,
for us with tastes prosaic, Monument Mountain is our pet rock.
– Dave Conlin Read
(earlier version published by Trustees of Reservations, 2008, Views of Monument Mountain.)