Your lines are written well
Calming and beautiful
Like an observing winter moon
Reflecting through mountain
Cedar. You stir placid water.

                                           I

Believe your passion,
Trust in your lines
For they are worked with time,
Perfect peace like a cold wind -
Natures breath from an old
Experienced mountain fall that
Stirs young birch from sleep.

                                           I

Breath deeper knowing you
are close and absorbing,
Seasoned by the shrill tone of battle.
Every southern city believes
Sherman spared her due to
Love of women.

                                           I

Stand tall, defeated the perfect
Fall. The stinging water flows
Below me pure and swift
Smoothing dreadful stone.
Your passion flows through my hair.