A poem from the hills
Aug 8, 2017 · 1 min read

There is a silver lining by the edge of the mountains,
like a boundary drawn to separate us mortals from the heavens.
Clouds so close to the surface like frozen drizzle.
Have you ever danced in still rain
or felt your feet afloat against wet pavements?
Damp shadows in the fogg remind me of my precious mistakes,
soft with time, translucent in the background of my mind.
Happiness is a choice I think I’d like to make.
Moist tree bark, drenched branch,
dripping on my cold wrists and warm palms,
the steady silence of the stream whispers to me
“God’s child, maybe you’re ready”
