Sunday, August 26, 2007

Vacation poem

My throat's as long as a great white pine:
I breathe in gulps of mountain air.
A hill floats blue above the lake,
Hemlocks, birches, white and spare,
Waves of goldenrod and Joe Pye weed
Plus good Queen Anne’s exquisite lace.
Above– those white pines’ majesty,
Their simple lesson: lift your face–
Take the long view, stand always firm
But if you have to, lightly sway,
And thunderhead and meteor shower,
Will all soon fade and pass away.

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