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Saturday, February 11, 2012

Tree, Tree ... Sing to Me

This winter is much colder, colder yet
‘T is not temperature that of which I speak
The year has left me older, older set
Upon blue mountain top, a forlorn peak

With anguish calling solitude is best
The owl and the fox give me wary eye
Wind provides music, ‘t is here I shall rest
Away from maddened crowds, ponder and die

Summer’s song is now fading, fading so
To remain on craggy crest is mine goal
Broad Sierra pine, shading, shading low
Bones will not be blanched, nor eyes burned as coal

Mine spirit will be waiting, waiting for
The name on mine lips, she that I adore

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