Upon summiting Mount Philo and overlooking the vista thereof in the Champlain Valley

In golden gleams of rays crepuscular and fair
Beguiled by Apollo's light so luminescent,
There lies a veritas whereof most unawares,
Canst echo poesy's call in nature evanescent.

A frozen blanket limpid, crystal, wan, conceals
The enigmatic eye— the synchronicity;
Trees maple, oak, and birch they want for naught, reveal
Kaleidoscopic mysteries—Simplicity.

Protected by sagacious mountains through the mist,
With snow august that blankets high upon her peaks,
When taciturn divinities descend: a tryst!
Amidst the noxious winds of north that curse and beat.

A village unassuming far below the worries
Quotidian of tawdry cities full of sorrow
That bumble anxiously abreast with hasty hurries,
She labors not nor has no care upon the morrow.

Laconic souls enjoined around the cozy hearth,
Ignites the hearts of friends in gaiety and mirth
Sweet flowing frothy draughts with spices aromatic
Betoken times whereby the psychic was somatic:

When children frolicked through the fields of flaxen wheat;
The reaper's scythe would harvest just enough to eat;
And crimson vineyards ripened therewith for no reason;
Libations liberating in and out of seasons

Whose cycle turns the handle on the music box
Of Time, cajoling sacred rhythms to the earth,
And cantillating elegies of fathers lost,
Acutely cognizant of suffering and dearth. 

Precipitous the valley and the fall that wait
For all ye sons of Adam taunted by the gates
Of Eden that eludes and finds no place nor station,
Illusive dreams that slip from our imagination.

A furtive world replete with idols in disguise
A restless world pretend of effigies and lies
A teasing sound that echoes o'er the mountain peak
Bucolic gods a-whispering:
                          "Hide-and-go-seek!"