The moon appears, unveiled by clouds
rain so lightly falling upon the frozen lake.
As frosty vapors rise illumined by moons light,
I drift within the scenes an old man's lost thought.
Ah, but beauty stirs my soul silently waking
to rhythms pit-er-pattering coldly,
seeping deep beneath the skin.
It seems to me within our trouble,
All is and isn't about the land.







15 old applause
