Spirit On The Mountain Poem by Carson Tidwell

When the sun's light eclipses the stars,
their violet shadows spill over
the mountain scape.
There, below, tucked between folds of earth and stone,
dwells a house;
its tuscany clay walls scratched
by brazen ice petals.
The roof, a sage brown, is weighed down
by evergreen needles.
Sheltered inside, deafly asleep, Time's arcane
In the twilight, she stirs, chrysanthemum eyes bloom.
Jumping out of bed, its sheets flying high.
The bare feet leave behind windswept brume.
Outside in the pink driftfloons,
her dance carves through the blades of grass.
Each step weaves threads of hickory stone.
High bone cheeks race to scarlet
as dawn transforms the sky.