2/8/19
We walked for 3 hours in thick mist,
Knowing the gist of the land by map,
Seeing only birches, bracken, pines, oaks,
Wild raspberries, and mountain streams
And birds splash the trails with honeyed song
Then the sun swallows the last cloud
And the mountains speak
And even our sweat has a sweeter taste
And the butterflies start dancing
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