Tuesday, October 21, 2014


Distant shimmered mountains climb the skirts of sky,
clambering, slowly holding to diaphanous distance,
rising as if called by angels seeding clouds of light;
so does horizon hold my mind with promise resonant.

So far and yet so near when imagination is recalled,
that way of dancing down time, and languorous road,
touch the tips  of mighty peaks with eyes half-closed;
so do we travel far, while never  truly leaving home.

Vision drinks so deeply of the image  born in mind,
that  faint conifers call crisply at pure nostrils edge,
and breezes creep with songs of chilling, pure snow;
here and there do not exist when everything connects.



1 comment:

  1. Oh yes. That last line? What a beautiful truth. However, I love the first two lines. Your phrasing is such that I have the mountains here with me.