Poetry

I have been looking for where I *thought* I had published Daniel's poem before on my blog. I couldn't find it.
So here is:

"Katahdin's Call" 

by Daniel "Folklore" Coder

The rain was cold. 
the wind was bold.
But my heart it told,
of a mountain to the north.
I had traveled far
 and nothing could bar me
 from the place I hoped to see.
The days I spent
 nor the miles I went,
 the cold, the heat, the rain.
From Georgia to Maine
the call was the same:
Katahdin come to me

When the trail turned dry
 my spirits ran high.
for the sun it shone
on the place I'd known,
the place that had called to me.
I turned then
to the places I'd been.
though all I saw
(for the trees were tall)
was a path scattered with leaves.

I could clearly see,
 despite all these,
 a part of me had been left behind.
With the people I met
 and the places I slept,
the towns, the shelters, the streams.
And I knew then what the call had been;

"From Springer true
 you have traveled through
mountains, swamps, and plains.
Despite it all that would have you fall,
you pressed on and on to see
 a mountain to the north,
a mountain that had called to thee.

"I am a call to all,
 who would see it all
from Georgia's pines
to Maine's shore lines
and everything in between."

I turned then,
and started again
up to Katahdin's Sign.
and I wondered then,
 if ever, when?
 I would come this way again.

********************

This is how it is saved in my computer. It has been re-written and worked on some, so I don't know if this was its last form.