Winter, clocked
God touched me there,
at the top of the mountain
while I sat on a rock, watching
the sun turn the snow into diamonds
at my feet.
He touched me. Gave me sight
so I could look across the country
at another mountain
dressed in white gown and diamonds.
I remember realising
that vision was not only what I could see
around me,
it was also internal,
as if the winter cloak I wore
kept it inside,
hid some sights that only I knew.
1 comment:
Karen, you keep getting better and better- I don't know what moves you, but I sure know your poems move me.
Hugs,
Dave
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