the winter wind across the lake
blows the sky a crystal blue
clears the way for perfect views
my mental state is scrubbed clean, too
fogs are not, nor gloomy clouds
high here, in my mountains, apart from crowds
I walk, we talk, the going is easy
(if i rhyme here it will be cheesy)
the ground beneath our feet swells
the path climbs and so does my pulse
a higher view of the lake’s deep blue
white mountains, green trees
everything is as it should be
the willow buds tell of coming spring
the flitting birds and scurrying vole agree
harsh cold days are past us now
the best is on the way
the clarity we seek
Oneness.
