Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Ireland


Mist clings to the wool of my jacket
Chill morning air stings my face
The leaden roof of clouds
Presses against the green-grey countryside
I breathe the land
Filling the vacant corners of my being
My rolling hills
And rocky shores
The endless bed of grass that softens my steps
My thoughts and dreams finding a resting a place
In the tracks I leave behind

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