pilgrims and peasants

woman of the woods

by flame and cold blue moonlight


she's hemming up his torn garments

making sure to stitch with patient fingers

watching through the window pane, frosted

for the return of her wander-lust filled lover


wise and wild plainsman

at sunset in dull brown twilight


he's walking down a dusty narrow road

making sure his pace is strong but slow

keeping eyes upon the smooth horizon

for the mountains; sleeping giant's bones

dry from rough and tumble bar floor nights

fought the men who pegged him as a fighter

stitched up all the the cuts and iced the bruises

took a torn up sleeve to make him miss her


mountain country children

in endless silent midnight


they're counting stars in silver fields

glad for time away from wood and stone

restful and at peace in this strange place

miles from their only childhood home


tell me that we'll finally find some valley

same as home, we'll all be joined together

blessed song, our call and response there

how i'd love to go tonight, so shall we?