It seems I never spend time
with the late-afternoon breeze
so filled with pine,
or walk high into the peaks
to feel your sun upon my head
and breathe the chill of snow
that has cooled the mountain air.
It is in those golden hours
that I think your new-born thoughts,
shining with star light
in the azure blue of the August sky.
And I am with you,
feeling the peace of knowing
my place among the elk and deer,
the moose and the falcon
that inhabit the wild wooded hills
of your domain.
So I go to be with you,
To talk and tell you of my life;
To seek your wisdom,
and the sunlit embrace of your love.
Upon your holy mountain,
I will rest my soul,
in the vastness of your spirit.