A cloud caught pink light
As it lowered tendrils down
Into that patchwork valley
I’ve always admired, somehow.
The geometric army
Of great blue and white mountains
Looked set to march through its smoke.
I said, I am happy here
And never afraid,
Not because of who’s with me—
It’s the valley that’s with me.
Shadowed landscape comforts me,
Grace to which I don’t belong
I will belong to someday.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.