In my mind there is a place
Where strangers have a blank white face
No eyes to glimmer or lips to smile
But layers to shed when weathers Mild

Its winter there but I like cold
the plants are green and sprout from snow
They slowly grow three feet or so
Each trees is old and bent from snow

Each branch that snaps falls with their load
if time where lapsed, to each I'd go
with every needle , every seed
Stop and sow a brand new tree.

In my place there is no waiste
The pace is mine and its a race
I move with haste and save on time
Its "start" to "start", there is no line.

I Post up high to watch it rise
Crest the hills and squint my eyes
Kiss my face with warming rays
As they beat back the chilling shade

Every morning in my place
we begin with this each day
Im on my way but it's a climb
Hill after hill, I try to find
Mile after mile to summit through pine
A letter left by passers by
a note in snow to look behind
A post or sign to point and guide
a track to follow or path to blaze

My self-I roam for days and days...