High far calling blues to name her my home
ever deeper; for there my heart will see
my house more of, tis how beauty is known
to souls made to saunter in lands yet free.
The aspens dance light, or is it the rain?
What trickles by slides down my branched roofs hewn,
soft wetting the found of mountains well laid
and blanket my beds with resonant dews?
Yet all beauty must flee from man's long stare,
for his gaze would fix on wild's best nature
and watch home stand to shake in bolts that tear
and bear quarter in fate to harsh winter.
While cost remains life my house may decide,
this home of my heart forever abides.
About the Creator
John Howland
Just a man who loves the simple things in life: Mountains, music, poetry, photography, and coffee...definitely coffee. Hold on scratch that, now I sound like a hipster.
I hope my words and photos can help inspire your creativity, enjoy!
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