Deep, Shady, the Cold Mountain Trail

Deep, shady, the Cold Mountain trail;

Bleak, chilly, the brink of a ravine.

Cheep, chirp, the birds are often heard.

Peace, silence, others won’t be seen.

Whistle, rustle, the winds rub my face;

Flitter, flutter, I’m in the snow’s embrace.

Morn after morn, the sun always hides.

Year after year, I’ve unknown spring’s trace.