The Call of the Wild

Second poem I've written in 16 years

I feel the mountains call to me like a whisper in the wind

Their call beckons me back to them, again and again

I listen to the river as it swiftly rushes by

It tells me many things, in it’s loud and forceful cry

I smell the wildflowers, as the dance among the breeze

The pollen that’s inside them, makes me want to sneeze