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,

always held

in the vastness of your spirit.

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David Karchere