Spirit Island
The spirit of the island;
Where snow blankets mountains;
Where wisps of weather shroud their peaks;
Where paintbrush pines daub their bristles on the sky;
Where we gaze at their reflection in the mirror lake;
Where we cannot see what canvas lies beyond;
Where a lazy log peeks at the scene;
Where stepping boulders shatter the glass;
Where the reflections ripple;
Where an eagle screams a greeting and leaves;
Where we press our footprints in the muddy bank;
Where the silver water wipes their memory;
Where there now is silence;
Where only our spirits remain and wonder.
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