Saturday, December 7, 2013

Skywalker Hill

streams of new depths
teem with bright fish
silver and gleaming
they run with the rivers
and into my chest

ever leaning
into to this
knowing all the thoughts that kiss
my mind are all renewing

my eyes squint at 7am
when truth won't make sense
the golden hill hints
that the mountains are shrinking
when i walk on the sky
the pine trees will glance
at my face so entranced
by this morning arrival


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