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North American Dreaming: Trail Of The Falling Waters

...knowing that this place, never changing, is the best beauty bestowed on my eyes...

William Burkholder's poem tells of a place and a moment where there was deep communion with Nature.

The trail of the falling waters carried me to the shadows of Mount Washington. I dipped my cup in the lakes of the clouds, and drew a long cold drink of mountain delight.

Mount Lincoln and Roosevelt revealed in the distance, the tree line on fire with color. Autumn in the mountains, crisp wind blowing, here at my journey that has ended.

I place my rock upon the cairn, knowing that 1 will never return, knowing that this place, never changing, is the best beauty bestowed on my eyes.

Old man of the mountain, watch over me as I make my perilous decent, cog rails closed, the tent stakes pulled, and I bid farewell to summit and swale.

must journey down this mountain to find yet another trail.

**

Do visit Troubadour21 magazine which Bill co-edits www.troubadour21.com

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