Dangling Brown and gray and old, I watch the cliff Of Signal Mountain looking down on me. A wisp of cloud above its brow, a wink And smile for few of us to know and see. Beltaine comes, borne on gentle breathe That breezes through the bones of trees now clothed In budding green, a Spring from Winter's death And cold. The circle wheels that once I loathed But now accept, embrace, and gentle draw Close to me, the turning of the world And memories of what was, and what we saw When it and I were younger, when dawn unfurled. I find my peace, no other solace need As once again renewal blooms from seed. copyright E Glas Durboraw, April 29, 2002 - Chattanooga