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Towards the western sky
A simple trick...
The light shows the top of the mountain
where the snow dwells deep in it's slumber.
And a lonely cloud rolls across the peaks,
towards an abandoned sky.
Where the hills roll yonder,
towards the western lands.
Where the leafs are taken from their branches,
upon a viscous wind.
And from upon high.
You can look down to the meadows,
where the snaking streams find a welcome river;
where the young trout do play.
As the spring heather,
waves to welcome your coming.
And the silence surrounds, like bees swarming.
While the lakes embrace the nothing.
And the cries,
from hunting red kites.
Echo throughout the valley,
eventually dying upon the gale.
As the unsteady weather,
keeps away unwelcome attention.
So you can stay and dream
from those prying eyes.
While the lark sing to the empty
and the bark grows to warm the trees.
A see of swaying green in plenty,
persuaded by the breeze.
Vaulted impenetrable beauty,
way beyond the minds eye.
Deep into the valley,
towards the western sky.
