In the West

Over the woodlands, swooping low,

teasing of summer as they go,

the winds play in trees I know.

They blow to the ends

from the West.

And every day the wide skies call

the mighty king to his mountain hall.

Across the fields his footsteps fall.

The sun goes home

to the West.

Here, the colors shift to grey.

The ground beneath me turns away

and yet my gaze—it will not stray.

Part of me is

in the West.

One thought on “In the West

Leave a Reply to talbertethan Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s