Deer walk upon these mountains, too,
Sere and brown in the early autumn sun,
Waiting for the spark, a conflagration
Racing up slope, opening hard-shelled seeds
Before an early winter rain brings back that
Life which we watched slowly fade in May.
The winter soltice passed and days will lengthen
Slowly into spring. Resurgent fluids flow up the veins of
Old oaks and blue-eyed grasses. Feeling the warming sun
Ancient peoples garlanded themselves in reds and oranges.
Come again, summer, with your hot dry winds.
Bring back the times when the sun sets late behind
Dark mountains and lingering fogs cool the slopes unto the sea.
I will sit and dream of seasons past and wait for the next turning.