Morning Poem, January 28, 2017


I want to go high and find those places

Where the streams first rush from the ground

And see the pure water gush from the ancient earth

Into the light of day.


Man does not mark such places

But they can be found, finally

By following river, creek, branch and rill

Up valley, bend and hollow

To the end.  Do not surrender to weariness

At the end there is the beginning

There is moss and evergreen and noonday shade.


Who owns this land?  There are no fences here.


Rest, breathe, behold.



Copyright 2017

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