Soft day, still water,
Spontaneously visited, full of wonder,
The mountains called, a lake answered,
One not visited since my youth rendered,
Balancing the fulcrum returning to present,
Bavarian gems embroidering the essence,
Silky-sweet snow-capped ridges
Abloom in his eyes, that innocent richness,
Brandishing nature with eager ecstasy
To scale them, the mighty peaks of fantasy.
Her peace is woven by trees on the shore,
Cloudless nursery the infant adores,
Rural desolation, a formula for retreat,
Pinecones in the sand piles at their feet,
A chipmunk retreating on logs he travailed
To stake a claim on the beach we prevailed.
If freedom is overrated, I'd rather not know why,
Just play me the music of mountains so high,
Allow us to follow the river revived,
See where it leads through the valley to find
New riches that glint by natural alchemy,
Solar reactions on water and chassis,
Turning a kaleidoscope that reaches Montana,
Forging of heaven that materialized arcana.
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