Mount Greylock;
Over in the Massachusetts hills,
Under airplane wings
Now slowly unfolds in twilight,
Tinged in monochrome.
Greylock is more dream than solid;
Ranging along on a summer evening.
Easing miles below me,
Yet softly calling my name
“Let us wander together,
Over in the Massachusetts hills.”
Can you remember other June wanders,
Keeping feet firmly planted on Greylock.
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