The Mountain by Ivan Guerrero Najera

The Mountain

The horizon was on fire
Daylight its destination
It would make of me a liar
My imagination

The hues of orange and wine
The hawks are passerbys
The strangle of the strange devine
Before my eyes

I travel on these hills on purpose
And force the rise of dawn
And notice I am nervous
To belong

My thoughts welcome the skies
And blinded by their declaration
I trust my open eyes
In sweet temptation

A fox traversed my path
For the fourth time this year
And questioned what I have
To offer that is dear

A bear strolled past and crossed
To break this dawn and break its fast
I envied all it's fur
The shadow that it cast

The deer assigned the scout
Leading the herd
Stared back into my eyes out loud
And this is what I heard

What are you doing here?
Is it the days you're counting?
Have you not had enough
Of this, our mountain?

by Ivan Guerrero Najera

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