Observations From a Mountain Perch
I thought about what to write.
I thought about what to say.
I thought about it every night.
I thought about it every day.
I sit on the porch and enjoy the view,
God's country, the way it was meant to be.
I sit on the porch and think of you.
What will the future hold? I wait to see.
With whom do I dare discuss what is on my mind?
Who am I to draw the line?
Time, is it our friend or our foe?
The answer to this question, I do not know.
Why would a bird ever choose to live in the city?
It is free, untethered, unlike you or me.
The air beneath its wings.
In the morning I am greeted by the songs it sings.
Solace and silence broken only by its words.
A more pleasant sound, I have never heard.
I hear an owl in the distance.
Day or night, it makes no difference.
A crow repeats its distinct sound.
No response to be found.
The fog hangs thick over the mountaintops so high,
Like a sheer veil draped over the face of a bride.
Patience is the sun's ally.
Soon, they will no longer hide.
A leaf, a branch, a trunk, a tree.
Together do they form a family?
A breeze gently tugs on the misty haze,
Entranced, I cannot relinquish my gaze.
Across mountains, valleys, and springs,
Still verdant, rippling, yet serene.
If man ever built anything so inspiring,
My eyes have not seen.
In a week it will have changed much.
To not see, to not hear, to not smell, to not touch,
Would seem almost to be a crime.
How does one choose to spend their time?