Mountain Gypsy (Poetry)

The mountain gypsy climbs the purple peaks
her boots worn smooth, the sunlight in her eyes
framing red Macgillycuddy's Reeks
her shadow falling where the eagle flies.

Her dress is torn, the gold about her gleams
the years have left her aching for the moon
she lives in places only found in dreams
the paths are narrow, morning comes too soon.

The dew is on her hem and on her hair
silver streaks the river down below
her bed is hard - the sandstone curving bare
around her like the womb she's come to know.

Her gypsy heart is singing to the sky
while spirits gather close their soothing mist
as voices chant forgotten words and sigh
she lingers - in a timeless state of bliss.

[Also on Deviant Art]