Jackson Lake

I long for purple mountains
flooded over by the mist,
morning dew lingering
upon the fading tracks of
moose and antelope
on the open marshland-

I ache to just sit there
within the warmth of that lodge
once more
and read, glancing up every now and then
to take it in-
We don't see that sort of thing much here-

I ache for springtime
when mornings are almost cheerful
everything is new again,
wipe the slate clean once more-
It is in those few precious moments
when I can feel everything at once,
when there is promise in
that crisp air-

I want to return again this year
and I want to take you with me-
to show you what it is
I cannot begin to express-
that place moves me-