She said she would be back someday, for even though the skies were gray
The sun seemed to shine--somehow, some way, and she said she would,
As she looked, the mountains seemed sad and somehow the birds did not
Seem glad, though she had told them it would be just a little while and
The clouds would rise and the sun, again, would smile.
The days grew short, the nights grew cold and the winds blew strong--
Still and dark the mountains waited, listening for her song. The leaves
Put on their brilliant coats, then were gone, and still they watched
And waited, not knowing what was wrong.
The snows came, cold and deep--the river waters were hushed neath their
Burden of ice. No food was placed on the garden wall under the fir, for
All the small creatures, even the mice.
Spring came, and as they came alive with green, they searched for her,
Those mountains with eyes unseen. They listened with great care, but no,
She was not there to walk their paths and smell their flowers, but when?
Someday had finally came for gray skies had cleared. With throat filled
With song and heart lifted she neared her beloved mountains, once again to
Roam, and they opened their arms and welcomed her home.