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Land of Chills

Whispering breeze tells me
"Follow me to the sea,
to the mountains and hills,
to the Land of Chills,"

where no man can stand
the falling frosty sand,

"and to the frozen lakes,
to the aging wood,
where the black bear rakes,
and the Tin Man stood,"

both in the dreams
and behind the scenes,

"to the lands of rock and peace,
to the lands of sun and heat;
to the lands of sweet release,
to the lands of sweet retreat."

So I followed blind,

if only in my mind.