And twin dreams,
Suffer the young lupines’
Summer dresses,
Shimmering and fragrant,
Catching the affection
Of the Julian Sun.
And if you don’t like the weather,
As they say,
Wait a minute
Or twenty,
When across the mountain valleys,
Franklin is warned
Of the clouds,
Angered
By pine trees
Tickling their bellies,
And less keen about young lupines,
In their summer dresses,
And wild daisies.
Still some peace is found
At the height of land,
In the clouds.
And Mooselookmeguntic,
The frozen lake,
Forever unchanging,
Never failing
To usurp my burden,
And set me free.
And the beauty of valleys,
Wreathed in lupines,
In summer dresses,
Viewed from mountaintops,
Storm clouds or no,
And despite broken roads,
Cast on them all the cares
Of a lifetime,
And those valleys
Never fill,
Never change.
Like loving arms,
Always there,
And always the same.
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