Cold October, in
Motionless mauve-brown hills;
Silent on a secluded path,
Restlessly waiting.

Was there never intention?
The betrayal of a fool?
Or was unforeseen the reality?
Did he come in his heart?

"Mountain gods,
Whispering woodland spirits,
Tell him that I came--
And I was not alone."

10/29/2019

Author's Note: Glendalough

Posted on 10/29/2019
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