There lies, below the peaks of the grand escape—the greenest mountains among the gloomy world that dominates the skies—a strange sort of hum, a voice. She sings a long melody of battle and blood, of love and life, loneliness.
            ‘’What is this voice?’’ they ask. ‘’Where has it grown and dwelled so long?’’

Long before the fields she says.
When the wild and cold
Whisked between the branches that had grown as friends
Of those ancient creatures who scout the earth and whisper of its goings-on. I knew the dark of shade
and the ice of the night when the wolves roamed in great numbers.
I knew the cries of the winter storm
The mist and haze from rain
And the feet that slipped upon the muddy slopes in haste—
Hiding, running
From that which hungered for its taste.

Lydia Steffan is a poet and fiction writer attending Utah Tech University. She is interested in the ancient and historic, as well as capturing the beauty of nature in her works.