The Mountain Bows to Itself

I heard the mountain round down
when giving change. I have yet
to meet a raven more ravenous than
a tree. The chickadees give up too
easily, coming down, eating from 
the hand, bowing the wing for an 
uncracked nut. The mountain eats
light until it's white, then it throws 
it all back on whatever face comes 
to land. To protrude so far from 
the flat, this full-headed hat
must accept that the feet will
wiggle however they please.