A sonnet, of the Petrarchan type

Maybe it's cheesy, but you try writing in form:

The Mountaineer

A man once looked across a field of flowers
to mountains still displaced above the earth
and looking back he chose to go on forth
towards heaven--home for gods and drifters,
to hills made men of any sense cowards.
in nature beauty has a greater worth
unparallel to that of any birth
in wanderlust forgetting all the hours
forget not feet nor breath nor will nor sun
in insignificance man stands in wild
and knows his place and feels his strength alone
do not stand still and wait for heaven
but go to it with eyes so like a child
and make this earth of wild a place your own