I go onto the mountain to defend
My loneliness, by yielding to white time,
Find granite fissures and the river's bend
Obedient to stone's weakness. My notes rhyme
With some of snow's ideas: early ice
Forms all around me shattering country rock,
But gently, plucking boulders from cliff-face
And canyon. —Hollows, cold shadows come back
Again, this year appearing not to know me
Who played with them. Last summer my song fled
Headlong and watery, down to a wide valley
Floor, where the opening sky took hearts and bled
Blue back, as vivid as the Steller's jay
Shrieks killers' joy, and strops its feathered blade.
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