Great Land

18 12 2012

She sits out there, beyond that door, a land greater, I’ve not known.
Her frigid glare, the bog and moor. God how that valley moans.
Speaking from the dead of night, through hoarfrost dense and cold.
My heart returns, so bold and bright, when I am in her fold.

The crackle of her frozen knife, dug deep in to the flesh,
allowing all it’s molecules, to now and ever mesh…
Permitted for, to stay awhile, amongst her wondrous glance,
that never ending triumph, of the earth and skies romance…

Breathing on a winters day, cathedral peaks above,
speak to me of what they say, about the valleys love.
Without them, it would surely be, a wholly different place.
Without them, we would never see, their solely gifted grace.

She sits out there, bold and fair, a land greater, I’ve not known.
Her icy grace, her teeming lakes, are where my heart has sown,
the feeling of the spirit, of that long and sacred book,
the feeling I am near it,
and I want that…
on my Nook.

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2 responses

18 12 2012
thoughtsontheatre

Beautiful.

18 12 2012
birchpoet

Thank you for reading and commenting. 🙂

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