Thursday, December 16, 2010


I miss the mountains
and the youth who climbed them

I miss sunset
from Shining Rock
eating from the blueberries
which smother its base

Ever been there
where a part of you
forever remains behind

in my slowly
aging dreams
I hear giggling angels
in the tumbling creeks

I still smell the cinnamon musk
of rain wet rhododendron
the incense of innocence

I remember love as
what we are
not as a calculation

Those aren't tears tracking
from cheek to jaw
they're only liquid
of what's to come

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