Snow always seemed so right
capping the summit of Fujiyama,
not dulled by the windows
of the Shinkansen to Osaka.
You barely noticed the rice fields
fanning out from its base
wanted to reach out and touch it
for that is what you do with icons.
Mount Hood had the same effect
but the chill along the Willamette
urged you to retreat quickly back
to the wine bar for a Cabernet.
an old writer and his words 
My geography teacher tells me a beautiful story about mount Fujiyama.
In which a young king orders to kill all old age people and tell their children to leave their parents on the hot Fujiyama. But one man hides his father in the underground. And a plague spread all over the kingdom. The King is helpless. Then, the man locked underground tells his son that I know the solution to this plague. They save all the people from plague. And the king takes his order back.