The Mountains of Time

This is one of my all time favorite poems, so I thought I would share it with all of you. Enjoy the beautiful fall day!

When old pony’s hair starts getting long,
and the leaves turn golden and red.
When the fox squirrel buries his winter’s feed,
and the geese fly south overhead.

When the  evening sun sets west-southwest
in a sky that’s the color of wine.
I climb in old memories saddle,
and ride up through the mountains of time.

When the springtime of yesteryear comes into view
with its freshness all green-stemmed, hip deep.
I can still smell the breath of the earth as she woke
from the harshness of past winter’s sleep.

I recall each heart-lifting happening,
like each new calf’s or colt’s dancing rhyme.
But old memories and me, we must get along,
we’re still up in the mountains of time.

A shadow of last summer is still lurking up here,
though the flames of old Sol are now dim.
I remember his heat that made my sweat boil
and gave thanks daily when he knelt at earth’s rim.

The long endless days are growing faint, through a haze,
their shapes getting hard to define.
And old memories and me, we’ve slow-loped through the rough
while up in these mountains of time.

Old man winter’s still waitin’ with icy white teeth
and winds that sing death with a gasp.
But he can slow nature’s dance only for a short time
a snow blanket warms her while she naps.

So if memories don’t fail and I keep a tight seat
we’ll look back on what we’ve left behind.
Up a trail that we cut, just as true as we could,
me and old memories, through the mountains of time.

By Joe Mingus

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