by Will Wagar

A long the winding road does seem
drifts, pinned with tiny diamonds, gleam;
wintry gems, cold, starry night,
where ice-rimns bathed in moony light,
sapphirine crystals in the dark,
bejewel the trees, their twinklesparks,
sequin-fires at ledge, in vale,
deep blues and greens to silver pale.
where oaks and birches, spruce, and pine,
-- kings cold robed and opaline --
crowned by flurries, nod convened.
beguiled, I sigh; becalmed, serene.

I silent watch and harking, listen
to lowing gusts, as shadows glisten;
then wandering, lost in memory,
relive an old epiphany --
naught in springtime, nor by day,
or when autumn colors play,
am I more homefound-blest, at-peace
as when winter-nighting 'neath
now higher, wider-loomed above,
my guardian alp -- how deep I love
you wooded giant cloaked in snow...
mountain-mine, I'm here below.

~Written for my friend Barbara/Bluejay
who lives very happily on a
mountain in Pennsylvania...
Will Wager 12-05~

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