I count the stars when I look into her
Illuminated by the Northern Lights.
And see spring by the French meadows of Byrhh
And the healing resurrection of life.

With her, I’ll not need jade or emeralds.
For the leaves of her branch bring us fortune
And belief in the light by Fitzgerald,
As guidance and luck in all that’s foreign;

Hills and mountains of Appalachian,
Pine trees and alpine lakes of the Yukon,
Cliffs and ports of Mediterranean,
The lush canopies of the Amazon.

If these are the games of Olympia,
I’d kneel to the eyes of Olivia.

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