Muir's Mountain Is Calling

Oh! to be among trees, mindful of silent power in mountains hallowed trails walked by Muir snow still filling nature’s deep kept secret bower breathe a bounty of sweet air clear and pure the rush of streams in springs ever rapid plunge music played to my footsteps beating drum water dripping into the grounds wet sponge snow melts as flowers start to thrive and thrum he set about recording each feeling, plant and rock tramped trails knowing there was hidden a clue we roam the mountain as one of his unknown flock interlace our souls in a weave that’s as old as it’s new what words can be found dropped into this silence when distraction is nothing more than a birds wing no screens to scream about the daily violence just lessons of earths sacred bounty worn like a ring where your eyes meet what has lived serenity bound falling trees that heard the soil cry with sympathy decays gift of life as the circle comes to meet around aligned in time to hear its own life of pure symmetry caught in a fast web of our own handcrafted design we can let go to journey upon a mountain path what Muir saw as seasons to be so innately divine we carry within our spirits in an inherited shared bath So! On to the forests and into the depths of green wear visions of blue sky caught in the white giants lure adventures drift into the dreams that you’ve seen on pathways not hallways we answer our cries cure