High above the harbor's flow,
amongst tall peaks and late snow,
where the krumholtz trees will grow,
to Lake Tear-In-The-Clouds I go.
Up here in this rugged spot,
a place explorers once sought,
echoed sounds and quit thought...
water spills through ancient rock.
Through the wilds it will wend,
by small towns it twists and bends,
winter's flow and icy spend,
until spring sun brings and...
Continue reading...