Mountains fair, stretching behind rolling hills.
I craft them from trees and storm clouds.
My mind takes this flat prairie and lifts it.
Exiled from my foothills roamings, by love.
Oceans rumble and roar, breezes salty and fair.
I imagine them as I hammock swing, eyes closed.
My mind makes this landlocked place roll, alive.
Exiled from my ancestral sailing folk, by love.
Hobbits and wizards roam wild, rings and adventures.
I go along with them, page by page, scene by scene.
My mind takes me to places where we speak runes.
Exiled? Exiled! Never from my own imagination!
No mountains, no oceans, no magical adventures.
I know there are four dimensions, maybe five.
My mind touches on them in the spiral of time.
Exiled from so many conversations, but living free!
Watching horses in the pasture, grazing, I dream.
I know they hear me, and we long to ride, fenceless.
My mind reaches back in time, and we ride. We ride!
Exiled from history, the wild women entrusted in me.
for dVerse, Exiles, thinking of making mountains here on the flat, oh so flat, prairie and dreaming of ocean waves through the wind blown trees. Reading and talking, sharing and dreaming…knowing there are a few who would journey with me, and we are a blessed wild bunch!