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Sep 2014
The white moon outshines whispering stars,
Illuminating my face and feet.
I step softly on the splintered porch,
Standing before the dark mountain shade.
My hand rests below my collarbone,
Fingers press into my steady pulse.

I belong in the sweet, frosty air
Where I can view blue and green mountains.
My eyes well, winking dark mirror ponds.
Each night mountains kiss the blanket edge,
Protecting nature’s wild secrets
Behind celestial tree-locked walls.
Marie Word
Written by
Marie Word
342
   amrutha
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