Sunday, September 10, 2006

Under the stars by Anne B. Murray

Under the stars
In the space of night
I walked the mountain tops
And knew the wind.
The stillness of the dark
Was mine
And the silence of the snow.
Mine were the frosted wind ferns
On the crouching rocks
And the glitter of their veins.
Mine was the creaking snow,
The mist like rime
And the crinkled gleam of the burns.
Mine too, the blue shadows
The grey, cold glint of ice
And the peace of the moon swept hills.

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