L'aura del Campo

I dream Montana

I dream Montana

Clouds glower at mountain ridges; stop,
then lift their veils of rain and pass.

Pine welcomes mist while blades of grass
green yet through all this I somehow know:

I'm dreaming Montana.

Open meadows, thunder of hooves,
howls from the bowels of canyons, woods.

Not gone, but fading

as moon-filled nights fade at dawn-light
where the buzz of a billion deeds

not done, still wait.

Why drown this dream with human plight?
In my bed I close my eyes. Unseen,

I dream Montana.

© Kåre Enga 31.agosto.2014

Oh, if I were Russell (the famous westerner) today...

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