Up on Potter's Mountain I am sheltered from the view
of incepid little towns
dotting the landscape
I come here to be among that which I am not
A hawk dancing in and out of the whiteness
feathers kissing the sun
But I in my tattered frock
sit dully
behind the trees
waiting for my own day
Ancient peoples roam this place
becoming the horizon
singing the bird songs
among the shattered screams of silence
Music fills my head
never free
to float beyond the leaves of desire and circumstance
Am I still me
Up on Potter's Mountain I think of so many different things
To Lisa, and the Virginia Mountains.
