COLORADO I can see Your cool clear water cascading down the rocks of my mind And I can see your Eagles soaring high over your lofty mountain peaks riding the thermals of a summer’s afternoon. In my closed eyes, I see The pine and spruce gently moving in the cool mountain breezes and note the aspen’s colorful hue of fall. I see the white tails bounding through the woods in the early morning seeking cover in the mountain shadows and nooks for their daily rest In the quite of night, I hear the Lonesome Call of the coyote, Calling from the moon lite mountain top, then hear the joyous reply from other side of the canyon. I have seen your secret trickles of melting snow that fell in intermingled showers and now collect in streams that give birth to mighty rivers running from your rambling divide to great oceans thousands of miles apart And noting the tracks of the mountain hare, I have felt the cold stare of the Mountain lion deciding and pondering my presence in his place. I remember the Mountain sheep of my youth crossing your rocky ledges and hearing the old timers tell of the wild turkey that called on a fall afternoon. In the cliffs of your canyons, I have seen the mines of those who searched for your gold and silver and left their cabins and works as a record of their life And my self , with shovel and pan knelt at the waters edge and dreamed of the mother lode. Not realizing I was in the midst of it. I can still see your Trout breaking water in the late afternoon with the Sunlight reflected in many colors from their shimmering sides. I walked the abandoned villages of the ancient ones who lived, and hunted and gathered in your lands and used your flat sandstone to build shelters that stand almost as long as eternity I have felt their flint arrow heads and pottery shards and wondered about those who lived there and then moved on with out leaving departing tracks I wish to hear the high mountain wind in my ears, To walk through a mountain glen and feel the Morning Sun on my face, Unfiltered by smoke or smog To see the mountain Blue Bell and Morning Glory growing untended by man and note the forest life when I stop and still my self as still as the rocks. I wish to smell the sweet smell of the forest after a summers afternoon rain and hear the hushed sounds of nothing, save my heart beat. as all take in its nectar. I wish to stop as a child and find a flat stone at the waters edge and skip it over the stilled pools as it mimics the water skipper or a bird in flight. And count the rings of the expanding circles and they grow and then crash in to each other I wish to awaken in the middle of the night at my campsite and hear the night sounds and water rushing over the rocks and minifalls in the rivers never ending song To smell the smoke of a morning fire and taste the coffee from waters of a mountain stream . And my spirit quickens at the thought of being embraced in the solitude of your greatness instilled in my sole as a youth RN 1/30/99
Posted on: Mon, 02 Dec 2013 17:56:53 +0000
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