Colorado Night
When the moon is high over the western ridge,
And you hear the solitary cry of the dancing wolf,
Echoing against the canyon walls,
Feel the cold air, lit by the stars,
Follow the snow where it leads you,
Down the steep ravine,
Through the trees,
And across the frozen lake.
Walk to the warmth of the evening fire,
Covered by the shadow of the silver moon.
No comments:
Post a Comment