Casted Stones

As I ride the winding roads away from smothering waves of hypocrisy, I cross the line into freedom through valleys, soft breeze and fluent rivers Decorated with weathered rocks and bordered by empty picnic tables The multi-colored mountains rise high above me, holding onto spatial snow, Before it’s stolen by spring’s warmth with months of waiting to be seen again Suddenly everything is so simple, like the wandering turkey, on patches of grass Old railroad tracks remain in place through crevices of gray cliffs so narrow on edge Birch trees cast shining white color in clusters on the side of the road in the sun Waterfalls flow down the mountainside with an ‘energy’ some thrive to have, In a world spinning with hatred amidst criticism that drains the depth of one’s soul While all those ‘complaining’ hurl insults like balls of fire, fueling it more each day Yes, hypocrisy has its twisted way But, far into the fresh air of these mountains, so cleansing and peaceful to the mind, There is no place for this kind of hypocrisy that twists, bends and projects, robust negativity Such that those want to push onto others like a wave in which they believe will drown the truth But, God allows for spaces to be found that some things he dislikes may never reach Such as these mountains, this winding road, this fresh air to breathe all with no casted stones Heidi Sands 4/9/21