This is a blog from a garden intern here at Songaia. I love the way she describes her adventures in the Washington State Wild lands! In Joy!
The fog folds and flows caressing the breeze like a serpent slipping through sand. The fog has returned to the mountain once more, just like when the first breeze blew.
My ears hear no sound yet I listen to the deep rumble and rhythm,
To a dance so often hidden.
The mountain she holds no protest against the fog forever rolling in. The fog tells his silent story through shapes and swirls to the ever patient mountain below. She holds his secrets of time allowing them to line her face.
There is a peace, a trusting between the two.
Because the fog will forever roll over and over and over again. And the mountain will always remain.
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