Passage Through the Mountains


And it was like a constant storm,

where dead go to fall

Where spirits come

and stay

make home

In low and lonely forms.



They’ve been gone for long,

and ran for few

As ground is ragged pass.


But now they speed,

and now they run

For home has come at last. 

 

 

And all again next June,

they will take them back

Grassland and natural fountains.

 

To sing and regret,

ever they met 

That passage through the mountains.