Majestic was the view that once glazed my eyes and set my mind a thinking
How sweet was the hue of the morning sun laying over the land as the warm rays I a drinking
Glissening was the snow cool upon the ground with thoughts of melting away
As I aproached the centre of the sky on my long journey today.
When I return with bags of plenty and wieryness upon my back,
Will the white still rule the terriory as gentry keep the plough rains slack?
I pray for rain and soft winds and long for the migrant goose calling
And dream of warm breezes with thunder bolts and ivy leaves crawling.
Mise le Meas, Feb 18th on a 6.58am delayed flight to Chicago
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