In a dry, cold type of weather, <br />Of the enormous Mid-West, <br />One must appreciate the mountains, <br />To do the cameleon-dance. <br /> <br />One must not count the cliffs, <br />Or drop off into sleep, <br />To encounter therefore false dreams, <br />Return to the thought of the sun. <br /> <br />It hardens the great waters, <br />That stabilize the earth, <br />When you're sick, it makes a difference, <br />With whom he wishes to live. <br /> <br />You are freed by mountain sickness, <br />To speak in tongues, <br />With the souls of the old city, <br />And you want to imagine them, <br /> <br />You do not beat down obstinately <br />With this whole sickness I have, <br />With the feeling of wholeness, <br />He will be happy.<br /><br />Nathan Coppedge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-desert-of-aridity/
