DanglingBrown and gray and old, I watch the cliff
Of Signal Mountain looking down on me.
A wisp of cloud above its brow, a wink
And smile for few of us to know and see.
Beltaine comes, borne on gentle breathe
That breezes through the bones of trees now clothed
In budding green, a Spring from Winter's death
And cold. The circle wheels that once I loathed
But now accept, embrace, and gentle draw
Close to me, the turning of the world
And memories of what was, and what we saw
When it and I were younger, when dawn unfurled.
I find my peace, no other solace need
As once again renewal blooms from seed.
copyright E Glas Durboraw, April 29, 2002 - Chattanooga