Iron Mountain ski jump

Iron Mountain ski jump

Tuesday, May 21, 2019


I am the old man you see walking
Through the park on a day in spring
When trees are all abloom in pink and white

Or on a summer morning in a mesh-side hat
So the air can caress my memories
With a slow and gentle breeze

Or on an autumn afternoon
When trees declare a festival
Ablaze with leaves of red and gold

Or in an early winter evening
Darkness falling fast and hard
A soft glow street lamp

Lighting the way to home

John Robert McFarland

“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” Carl Sandburg

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