The Beckoning Dream Poem by Richard Shindle

Of the high lonesome mountains I dream.
Of glacier fed rivers and clear mountain streams.

The peaceful stillness of a clear mountain lake,
And the haunting call of the loon to which I relate.

A small log cabin with smoke from the chimney.
This wonderful dream that God has given me.

The aurora borealis on a cold winter's night.
Oh how they dance and shine so bright.

The isolation, the cold, nor the bear deter me.
It's all these that forever allure me.

There are valleys unpeopled and still.
This land how it beckons and beckons.

I want to go back- and I will.