High Country Girl

She’s a high country girl
she lingers in the mountains
on her pony named persimmon
as she gathers juicy morsels
from the meadows by the river
and she hasn’t once forgotten
how to braid in chocolate lilies
and delicious savory garlands
in her splendid auburn hair.

In the shadow of a totem
far above the restless ocean
silent peaks stand snowy white
astride her young persimmon
through the cedars by the water
in the midst of playful spirits
people swear they often see her
when she flies across the river
chocolate lilies in her hair.

She’s a high country girl
she sparkles over ridgelines
on her pony named persimmon
as he flies across the treetops
chasing hawks with eagle eyes
in the midst of merry voices
some swear they often hear her
lilting laughter raising spirits
scarlet garlands in her hair.

In the shadow of a hilltop
after daylight fades at sunset
as the sky glows darkest orange
fast astride an old persimmon
although she won’t release him
from her home to far horizons
yet we hear his hoofbeats thunder
on the mountain cross the river
tossing lightning in the air.