I am the mountain that weeps snow.
Burning brightly in the sun.
I am the forest that cries leaves.
Red flames falling gently.
I am the river whose tears burst its banks.
Brown and raging with white foam caps.
I am the prairie which bleeds flowers in the spring.
The wind is my lover and she has gone from me.
Taking with her all the scents of my youth.
Thursday, June 9, 2016
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