There
was nothing left to do
but
head down the path
Night
had fallen at six
and
the air was chill
The
others were long gone
and
the moon was rising to a half
A
little thrill of fear
was
only sensible
He
walked the silver strip
between
the double shadowed borders
A
mountain pelt of rough grass
now
spat with dew
And
he yelled
I’d
like to build my house here
and
I’d
call it mountain view
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