High above the horizon
rises your form of gray Zion.
Shawls of majestic boughs
The ground covered with pine needles
the essence of nature blows in the wind.
Serene Silence evolves here in Mother Nature.
Ray fingers from the spirit sun, dance
caressing the heartbeats of brown earth.
The small mountain variety of flowers,
bloom and flourish in this rich soil.
I sit quietly and mediate,
I am one with the rolling
streams, floral bounty, winds,
that toil on this mountain.
Here on Wind Mountain I come to
the great spirit in the heavens,
one as a child of his creation.
I am always drawn to nature and spiritual inspiration in the end. For me when the world
seems cruel and overbearing to live within I withdraw to the Creators Zion.
Copyright © Peggy Bertrand | Year Posted 2007
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