Friday, August 5, 2011

high cove
wind blows
roan mountain in the distance
golden feather
cicadas sing
i breath in the mountains
at their insistence
summer's waning
my boy is playing
the crescent moon
smiles down upon me
time is moving
i move with caution
thinking carefully
so to avoid
keeping the sadness
at bay
psyching myself up
for the prairie
i'm on my way
full circle
heading back west
after a refreshing splash
in my favorite

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