Bylthe Spirit

I might stay awhile in the middle of the Nile or perhaps
make my home in a cinder cone atop Mount Aetna
if my soul were free to fly and roam but then
again perhaps Ayers Rock down under
listening for the thunder and playing
the dijeridoo; or I could be flying
down to Rio for a cuppa tea o
or Buenos Aeries for Matteh
but that’s another story
oh the glory of palling
about with the
summer wind
no matter
where
it blows
perhaps I’ll
spend a night
watching the waves
pounding the shore in
Tierra del Fuego; what would
you do, tell me more, is it Lake Van or
Mount Ararat that tickled your fancy before you were born

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