The Protectors

These guardians seem everywhere

No eyes and little hair.

They speak to you but without a sound

And making you feel really close to the ground.

Heads held high

They soar into the sky

Drawn to stare at their huge forms, shadowing everywhere.

But one seems bigger with a white patch of hair,

Sparkling and standing out

In the blue, blue air.

Their presence is felt by all around

All who gaze up at their peaks that are crowned

For these are the Andes, the mountain protectors of South America

And above them all, Aconcagua.