Sweet shrills escape the air

Echoing through the trees.

Singing songs, dancing wings

Crack like a whip.

The Mountain calls to me.

 

The crisp air plucks the sound

As if it had never been.

How now the coward cowls

Behind his shadows silence.

The Mountain calls to me.

 

Sweet shrills have been silenced,

The morning colors fade.

Shadows of great towers

Fall upon my face.

The Mountain calls to me.

 

Looking up with open ears

My senses wait for a flood.

The stories of this beast

Must be hidden among its roots.

The Mountain calls to me.

 

Mine innocent curiosity

Begs to infiltrate secrets he holds dear.

I turn away

Until another day.

The mountain calls to me.