Snow On The Mountain — Image by kenne
6
Men ask the way to Cold Mountain
Cold Mountain: there’s no through trail.
In summer, ice doesn’t melt
The rising sun blurs in swirling fog.
How did I make it?
My heart’s not the same as ypurs.
If your heart was like mine
You’d get it and be right here.
— from Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems by Gary Snyder
Leave a Reply