Still
- L. Adams
- Apr 15, 2020
- 1 min read
my spirit longs for
the desolation,
the wild loons calling at night.
the rocky mountains,
the grasses bowing
in the cold wind.
underneath it all,
the silence
of wild things.
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my spirit longs for
the desolation,
the wild loons calling at night.
the rocky mountains,
the grasses bowing
in the cold wind.
underneath it all,
the silence
of wild things.
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