Moving over the mountains,
there are powers bright as dragons,
traveling, traveling, up and over.
The air is never still.
The power flows.
We can only sense it.
Only a knowing, a sensing,
a shining at the summit,
arching over us, unceasing.
The mountains are never still.
Over her skin, the power is moving,
the dragon traveling, timeless, shining.
Annelinde Metzner
April 12, 2010
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| Sam's Knob near Black Balsam |
