Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Red Mountain

At the ribs of a red mountain
The trees twist and spiral
Every branch and every leaf
Every pattern where they seed
The trunks swirl through an unseen force
From the valley
They form a gate to another place
From the summit
The vortex tugs at the soles
Of traveling feet
In the heart is a cool resting place
That forms a hidden island of life
Over a dry, lifeless space

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