where journeys end

each journey has its stages first the plains
a little bland perhaps but still secure
certain of their ways but not cocksure
their songs are steady soft are the refrains
and then the mountains mothers of the rains
in sunlight their mass appears to reassure
but winter comes and away goes their lure
and you wonder what became of all your brains
now here's a lake with waters broad and deep
fed by sweet rivers and with outlet clear
a place where all turmoils and conflicts cease
away from both the flat and stony steep
to those who know its beauty very dear
the site at last of joy and calm and peace