Grey Mountain River.

Grey Mountain River
Chasing high Alps of verdant pasture
Left flower bright by migrating snows
That tarried for a wile in the hallow shadows
Of sharp stone scars that perch falcon
Before flurrying to rejoin the ever wondering winter

Grey Mountain River
Rejoicing over the ruminations of reticent boulders
Who grumble as they split the race
For white crest waves that fold apart
As underneath lesser stones give way with ill grace
And wild banks look on with slow curiosity

Grey Mountain River
Leaping young from stern walls and glowering faces
Before falling in light carved mists
Overlooked by those that weal above the high places
All to escape the machinations of ancient ice
Their thoughts old and grim as they ponder their mountain

poem by William Reed O'Connor
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The Enchantment of Birds.

Winter green, showing dark in morning haze of fractured warmth
Of tall shadows cast in absence of light upon empty air
Of ephemeral breezes that dusk among bough arched halls
Where light glanced threads stitch the ground and make joyful a prison of twined trees
Who fall in ungainly ranks that dress on, innumerable and innominate
With needles to splinter the clustered light for the specklings of dust that show it off

All is a prelude to the more timid green of spring

Sails of new hope dawning carry each restless stride
From leaf brown shore to moss green isle and on some feral bearing
That tacks its way in the gentle company of ‘nothing much to do' and ‘everything to see'
The passage continues, into the deep green of fir woods
Through sun wrought mists to an end
An end that is not ‘yet' or ‘now' or even ‘soon to be'
And so in looking through the miles of absent time
Between this living slope and that, shown in clearest motion
The perfection of what is

This thing, this all in the enchantment of birds

poem by William Reed O'Connor
Added by Poetry Lover
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