I wish I were in Boulder
on top of Lookout Mountain at night
with the city spread out below
and Denver in the distance,
stoplights changing,
headlight moving,
but no noise…
as if it were a gigantic toy
running silently.
The cold, crisp air surrounding me
canopying numberless stars
behind
the strong, solid mountains;
a cocoon of silence battening me from shocks
and an occasional plane silently twinkling its lights
as it passes by
on a mysterious journey from one someplace
to another.
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Posted on October 16, 2012 at 2:44 AM in Janet, Poetry | RSS feed
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