mountains go by Indigo Tempestathe beauty of a folkway sometimes (i am the radical entranced by the fundamentalists) serenely to me singing (beauty in harsh life)
i am passionate child of mountain bliss, do you see me softly swaying in the dark of the moon before the fall of the feather to the ground? do you hear me, kissing the dew of my existence - and into the rough cracks of my lips seeps the cool which to your lips i carry tenderly, like a child to ease you.
in the knotted trees i curl my spine i become the oldness of the earth i am forever displaced and implanted in one nothing is the supreme when the moss is the floor. feeling the coldness of wet at night on my toes, i shiver. three more miles 'til home. (i smile at the moon to reassure her)
the mandolin keeps on humming though my mother's uncle died three winters ago the store is closed down since mr atkins died and his widow went over the mountain but i'm twisted into the soil now and i'm never to let go
my fierce mountain fire won't let me come down 03/31/2003 Posted on 04/01/2003 Copyright © 2025 Indigo Tempesta
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Jean Mollett on 05/09/03 at 05:21 AM Hi Indigo,
It's lovely, yet kinda sad. Good work. Jean |
Posted by Agnes Eva on 05/15/03 at 12:54 AM beautiful, just lovely- i can see you rooting in the soil, power of nature's flow shining through |
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