I like this attempt at mountains.
There’s a poem I wrote a while back called “Don’t Let Go” that fits this one well:
At the fair, late last June
Mother bought me a balloon
and she told me to hold tight and not let go.
With my fists, did I cling
holding tightly to its string
and about that time the wind began to blow.
Then it blew me away
and I’m floating to this day
over every mountain, valley, lake and hill.
“Don’t let go,” mother said
of the tiny little thread,
and until the day I land, I never will.