Clouds glower at mountain ridges; stop, then lift their veils of rain and pass.
|I dream Montana
Clouds glower at mountain ridges; stop,
then lift their veils of rain and pass.
Pine welcomes mist while blades of grass
green; yet; through all this I somehow know:
I'm dreaming Montana:
open meadows, thunder of hooves,
howls from bowels of canyons, woods.
Not gone, but fading
as moon-filled nights wink out at dawn
when the buzzing of a billion deeds
not done, still wait.
Why drown in streams of human plight,
when in my bed I close my eyes. Unseen,
I dream Montana.
© Kåre Enga 31.agosto.2014
Could use a couple extra lines; but, oh, if I were Russell (the famous westerner) today...
Original in "L'aura del Campo" "I dream Montana"