I was welcomed here—clear gold <br />of late summer, of opening autumn, <br />the dawn eagle sunning himself on the highest tree, <br />the mountain revealing herself unclouded, her snow <br />tinted apricot as she looked west, <br />Tolerant, in her steadfastness, of the restless sun <br />forever rising and setting. <br />Now I am given <br />a taste of the grey foretold by all and sundry, <br />a grey both heavy and chill. I've boasted I would not care, <br />I'm London-born. And I won't. I'll dig in, <br />into my days, having come here to live, not to visit. <br />Grey is the price <br />of neighboring with eagles, of knowing <br />a mountain's vast presence, seen or unseen.<br /><br />Denise Levertov<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/settling/
