A Song And A Poem

I like the song "Memories" by Eisley.

And here's a draft of a poem I found in my writing files the other day. Did you know I had it in me? I had forgotten.

Long days of gray
and the black night slips
into an endless spring
that is waiting to arrive
on a cold mountain.
The black branches of a lone dogwood
are bursting with delicate white
snowlike blooms
as they coil against a darkened sky.
The rain birds fly overhead
and I see for one moment
a well of blue
falling upward in the midst of a swirling storm,
but I can't see to the bottom.
I don't know if there is one,
but the birds go up and up,
a fluttering of white,
and I lose sight of them as the well disappears
into the gathering of clouds,
which smothers the blue, takes it away,
but the echo remains in my soul,
like the shadows of the rain birds
etched into the twists and turns
of the wild dogwood tree that stands
in the midst of a sudden field of green and gold
under a cold mountain.