November, Blue Ridge Mountain, 1992

By Eric Robert Nolan

November compelled us to visit the hills
Where ignorant rock and lofty pine
Were witness to our disregard
For strangeness, temptation and time.

But memories are sticky things.
Will any mountain ever let
Me dream again? Can I now
Feel rain without regret?

         
Eric writes “because the stories in his head insist on their telling, and the voices there clamor to be heard.”