The mountains

            like Soviet tenements

rest at the feet

            of the gods

the tundra lost

            in magnificent scale

at the Coast of Virtue’s venue,

            when we left the Caspian

Evergreens joust with blue,

            like time lost in parry

(movement and place)

            far too lofty among the trees

where colors cast in love’s projection,

            two and three meters of snow

cannot touch these somber skies

Inescapable candor, like

            a hornet’s nest in July

reminds me, before the folly,

            of remnant clouds as

love always takes precedence

            in the sunlit elevation of you:

A cannon of elegance

            in imprints of your love

___________________________________

© Thespian Drummer