Lake Crescent

Mountain mist lay still on the lake below,
as if Olympus’ gates spilled onto Earth
to create our heaven; a gift bestowed.

And show our timid secrets and our worth,
In a valley lit and shadows dispersed.
A looming mystery, a virgin birth.

Oh, the Old gods have cascaded this pursed
Crescent Lake that holds the deepest fountains.
This serene body clouded by a curse

Now lifted by my eyes beneath mountains.
No rain, or snow, or sleet, or fog can shroud
Us in this range of rigged horizons.

Lay still, North Wind, this love has been avowed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s