GOING BACK

When I get back

to the high bright world

of the windblown sun

and the meadowed rock

things will be all right.

When I return

to the mountain wild

on a turning trail

through a summer rain

my rhythm will return.

When I can escape

to a land left wild

on a still starred night

drowned deep in peace

my life will turn around.

When I get back

to the wilds again

and the easy peace

of dreaming fire

I‘ll be content again.