This was a response to the last poem. I decided I ought to try my hand at answering my question.
I stand solitary, yet not alone, on the ridge.
A great lake of deeply green pines
Covered in last nights pure white snow, sweeps below me,
Surrounded by ponderous, grave, purple mountains,
Drenched in the golden beams of the early morning sun,
Ascending from behind my ridge into the dancing blue sky
And exchanging familiar glances with the mountains,
Latent with something I cannot put my finger on.
All is quiet.
Perhaps if I had better ears I could hear the melody,
The hymn swirling from among the trees below
And echoing from atop the mountains afar.
Somehow, somewhere deep in my heart I feel the same song beat.
I stand together.
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