This is me reciting a very short love poem that I wrote in college.  “November, Blue Ridge Mountains, 1992” was first published in 2013 by the International Ware Veterans Poetry Archive.

November compelled us to visit the hills
Where ignorant rock and lofty pine
Were witness to our disregard
For strangeness, temptation and time.

But memories are sticky things.
Will any mountain ever let
Me dream again? Can I now
Feel rain without regret?