Oh, God, the longing I feel
for those misty mountains,
cold in the morning light,
dripping from the midnight's rain.
I long for the tree-shaded darkness
against mid-day sun,
for wet, warm hours.
I feel the calling, the drawing home
across the sea,
to a time before,
a place known only
in soul's memory.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 11:07 PM UTC
Oh, God, the longing I feel
for those misty mountains,
cold in the morning light,
dripping from the midnight's rain.
I long for the tree-shaded darkness
against mid-day sun,
for wet, warm hours.
I feel the calling, the drawing home
across the sea,
to a time before,
a place known only
in soul's memory.
Request permission to use this poem