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Mountain Home

The last leaf falls, winter calls.
Pure driven snow, dances 
In the Northern Wind.....
No tree stands without a bend.

The Mountaintop is hidden again
Don't know when I'll see it's top
Winter rushes in, non-stop...
It appears to sparkle in its light
Don't let that fool you of its might!

A winding path stretches far, seems to 
Reach a lonesome star. 
Never underestimate its zest, it's always
In the motion, it knows no rest.
So Mule wagons are packed full,
firewood they must pull.
That is winter's rule.

The work is never done, but I still have
Have my fun.. all weathered earth and 
Stone can send the freeze to the bone.
The Mountain is my home. where ice
And wind relentlessly roams.
It's times like these I miss the Sea
It's the sight of sand and foam.

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Mountain Home