Days drift
on long summer shadows,
morning kisses,
simple whispers
of a million leaves’ secrets.
Clear sky,
powder blue,
swept wisps of tangled clouds
over the tops
of mountain walls,
secure
in their veneration.
Straight trunked sentinel forest
gave way to long, lush prairie
on one side
and impossibly high cliffs
on the other.
Far and wide
as the eyes sees,
not a standard striking
a venerable silhouette,
but golden fields,
swaying to that same wind
that once licked off
the salty kiss of the Pacific.
Driven over the Rocky Mountains,
straddling their majesty.
One side of mind
on chasing voracious passions,
the other,
on the slow and careful nurture
of a simple life.
To dip
into the ocean
in the evening,
after a hard day’s toil
in the fields
and on the plains;
and seeing those old sentinels,
that make up the spine of the world.
It is good
to be home again.
This sounds relaxing!
Stop by my space sometime,
Mena | femmerewritten.com