the poem as
an MP3 file.
|Valleys are where people live, where farms
Are rich, the soil fertile, and rivers flow
Like braided bloodstreams through the heart.
Even so, one longs to live on mountains,
Not satisfied with happiness, or with
The beauty of fresh flowers and old trees.
In the cupped palm of a gigantic hand,
Near heaven in a world of sculpted stone,
Each moment needs an ear, a hand to hold.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon