More than one mountain, there is
more than one pass,
sometimes buried in everlasting snow,
sometimes glowing with all the fires
of sunset, there is
always another way through,
from blue-black cedared ravines,
a desert, scoured smooth, descends,
where orchards bear promise
of new beginnings, where, before
snowmelt subsides, vineyards blush
to think of autumn’s heady wine.
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Picryl
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