Peter's Mountain

White capped peaks, set a calming essence's surroundings, A hushed place of peaceful contemplation and serenity, Time stands still here upon Peter's mountain. In this isolation's retreat from the outside world, A lone solitary soul, does lean onto his walking staff, Pondering thoughts of life's past experiences, and Remembering days, oh not so long ago. Here this wilderness man, has a freedom that most Men will never know, in his personal paradise Of the forest wild. Living off the land, did he so hack, and chop for himself, Taking a small portions piece to live upon, A rustic cabin built in a meadow's glen, It's more than enough for him. A trapper's trade, by God's promised blessing, Does he make a small living's income, But wealth's gold, lies in them there hills, Liberation's breath, to be inhaled, day by Day with no strings attached. Outside stands one stone, carved by his Own hand, here lies my wife beloved, Spring violets lain in hearts respect, unto Her memory are thus given, as he wipes a Single tear away, soon dearest in softest tones, Is spoken by this rugged soul. The last is he of a dying breed of pioneers, Those searching for the next grand adventure, Just over yonder's distant horizon. Daniel Boone's back pack fever, runs through The mountain man's reins, and only death's Blacken trail, can sever their need to roam. Leaning against the fire place hearth, Puffing on his corn-comb pipe, this dreamer Makes peace within himself. I've lived a good life, had myself a good wife, Soon I'll join her, God be willing. Slowly, he sits within the rocking chair, And closes his eyes one last time, Allowing his bones to relax once and for all. White capped peaks, set a calming essence's surroundings, A hushed place of peaceful contemplation and serenity, Time stands still here upon Peter's mountain. BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN