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She is my lover Of a thousand moods. I never tire of gazing upon Her long lithe body, Her head pillowed On mountain slopes. She the mercurial Keeper of wind Which come Autumn, She will swirl just As a vibrant young woman Will swing a muffler ‘Round her neck. I awoke to almost silence, Sipped Italian roast To chase away the barefoot dreams Painfully afoot within my heart. Stepping onto the deck A tsunami of awe Washed with wonder My heart clean again. The night’s stormy anger Had torn Every star from the sky, Atop endless wavelets They now adorned Her morning robes. I whispered her name Wenatchee.
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Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 7:13 PM UTC
Wenatchee
She is my lover Of a thousand moods. I never tire of gazing upon Her long lithe body, Her head pillowed On mountain slopes. She the mercurial Keeper of wind Which come Autumn, She will swirl just As a vibrant young woman Will swing a muffler ‘Round her neck. I awoke to almost silence, Sipped Italian roast To chase away the barefoot dreams Painfully afoot within my heart. Stepping onto the deck A tsunami of awe Washed with wonder My heart clean again. The night’s stormy anger Had torn Every star from the sky, Atop endless wavelets They now adorned Her morning robes. I whispered her name Wenatchee.
Lake Wenatchee is nestled into the Eastern foothills of the Cascade Mountains, and is known for mercurial weather.
MichaelSunBear9901
Written by
74/M/Seattle
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 7:13 PM UTC
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