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Mark Steigerwald Nov 2014
The mist rolls in
and the sun comes out,
the flowers bloom
and the wylde things shout.

The beasts roam
and the thunder quakes,
the stars dance as one
the ground beneath begins to shake.

The calming air
the wondrous air
the peaceful air.
Ode to the beauty of this fresh
mountain air.

The cool breeze so fair
flowing steadily
from the mighty peaks

Of earth and sky
rock and water,
ever does it reek.

The green of the hills
And the shiver
of the river's chills

The sounds of the forest
and the roar of the beasts
Ode to you oh ye so fair
Ode to you
oh perfect mountain air.

— The End —