Where the wind blows
Through the boughs of the pines.
Moon full and old sets below
Running deer mountain.
Across the sky
Stars mark their celestial path.
A pathway leading to sleepy time
On the other side of deer mountain.
Sitting on top of a hill
Wind in the antlered pines.
Step by step we return
To magic time.
Over the shoulder for good luck
Went running the swift buck.
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