The pressing's being pressed

between the life I'm living

and the American Dream, springing

from the mountains of ages past

and wisdom passed down

when the spring sunning melts away

the frosts from the coldness of the last seasons winter,

passing over the peaks and valleys solidifying the fluid motions,

to remember them and ponder

the creep of glaciers layered

with the tell tales of the life

now joined together in a loose bond

in the organized chaos of glaciers; of the creeks and streams filling with life and love and death of creation laying to rest a year's trials and tribulations

every blossom is perfect

you would not life waste in searching the delicate turn of each petal, in exacting awe, at the miracle of the lovers lips that kiss the sky in the amber glow of the morning's new light