The mountain spoke to me
I lay upon her breast
Safe under a wool blanket in my bed
In my house
In my father’s house
A butter colored moon peeked in
Through wavy glass
A light breeze whispered
Stars danced
High above my father’s house
And the trees
The trees told secrets in the night
And sacrificed their bodies
Their lives
To keep us warm in winter
When good food cooked
On the steaming stove
The smell coming in through the nose
And settling in the belly
Of my father’s house
I could not know or understand
The whispered words
Of mountain and tree
But they haunt me still
And catch in my throat
I cannot speak them
But I know them
Like I know myself
Like I know each board and corner of
My father’s house
