Catch the Wind (9th Day Series..Last poem)

On the ninth day I found the valley,
Fields of gold as far as
I could see.
The stream that had been
Born in the trickles of rain
Carved a route towards
The lake,
This in turn robbed
The first dancing rays
Of sunlight.
Which waltzed with grace on the
Lone cabin on the shore.

All day I circled the rim,
Searching for the descending road
The path that I believed existed.
But found none.
As night fell
I listened to the valley
Play on the harp strings
Of the stream.
Watching the cabin lights go dim.

Next morning a veil of mist
Disguised the valley
Like a cloud held softly by the wind,
Ready to float and disperse
Into nothing.

I rode away
Never to return –
Never wanting to destroy
The dream,
Or attempt to
Try and catch the wind.

© (Löst Viking) (May) 2015) John Anthony Fingleton

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