Have you seen her? You must have seen her,

she’s one of the trees, with all the rain

that she can bear:

Eye color? Colorado green.

Hair color? The evening sun.

Don’t mistake her voice

for the hidden opal stream.

I have dreamed her. I’ve always dreamed her...

she’s one of the clouds; I tried in vain

to bring her here...

See her float down, alone,

nestle in a mountain’s bosom.

If I could be that mountain,

I’d imbibe her every wisp, before she is blown.

I’ve come to meet her, I’ve longed to greet her:

she’s one star away! I’ll find again

in crystal air,

In the realm of her natural grace,

and mysteries of her hues and shades

the soul who wanders but never fades,

discovered afresh, in her dwelling place.