alta lake park

The resolute movements of the moon, imperceptible sound of eyes reading about Alta lake park. Waters float a song in search of a tongue, mountain is like a telephone handset that has been left on a table, hear the sound of rain falling on rock and the hands of the clock of the soul tap out an incantation. Wind divines music from trees docked, rain falls from leaves like notes leaking from heaven. Can you hear Alta lake park talking to America and the world. Candle of silence becomes surrounded by songs, is the light blind as it dances alone?, as the hands of the sun and moon clasp in prayer for the sustainability of parks. Ghosts are released as a flower opens, wind mutters the names on graves of those who have passed through and passed on.