Life With Horace

poetry & essays


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Mountain top

Stars began to drop
into the growing dark
of a clear night sky
as I came down
the mountain
to our woods
the trail familiar
boots sure in waning light

I went up alone
wanting the feel of you
knowing you would ride
the swirl of wind
on every peak
including mine

I sat waiting, the
wolf burn bare granite
still comfort warm
close to sunset
my words escaping
into the rising drafts
as song, wait for me
I will be there given time