Thursday, December 21, 2006

High Mountain

In the high mountains finding my way
horizon ridge vague above moving fog
alone here with forty peaks visible
sound of wind
insects buzz
the mountains are moving
a small bird hops lightly on new ice
aquamarine blue
the high lakes like Navaho turquoise
winter slips from scraped granite
creeks swell
buried trees groan under snowlode
the land is swift with change

giant mother shudder to spring

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