Distant shimmered mountains climb the skirts of sky,
clambering, slowly holding to diaphanous distance,
rising as if called by angels seeding clouds of light;
so does horizon hold my mind with promise resonant.

So far and yet so near when imagination is recalled,
that way of dancing down time, and languorous road,
touch the tips  of mighty peaks with eyes half-closed;
so do we travel far, while never  truly leaving home.

Vision drinks so deeply of the image  born in mind,
that  faint conifers call crisply at pure nostrils edge,
and breezes creep with songs of chilling, pure snow;
here and there do not exist when everything connects.

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s