Mountainwinter

It's 6:30 am... it's so beautiful outside that the thought of sleep seems utterly ridiculous. I'm on the front deck of our cabin watching the sun peek over the West Virginia mountains, drinking coffee and chain-smoking hand-rolled cigarettes... gotta get something down on paper to capture the moment. Here's my attempt:

Everything seems dead upon first glance But there's so much life hidden beneath! The shroud of browns and grays disappears at dawn's first glimmer of sunlight Green moss comes alive on cold rocks Expired leaves shine a vibrant orange as they quiver in slight breeze, fairly palpable The pulse of the mountains throbs through me, awakening senses long forgotten I feel alive again in these hills! A child revived! So tiny and insignificant in comparison To nature's grand network of trees, rock, and vine This surely is my home No walls to confine great sadness -- The rush of the river washes it away No cold hard floor to echo the guilt of great mistakes -- The crunch of dry leaves drowns out the sound No bellowing screams of "Hurry! Do it now! Time's a-wastin'!" -- They are lost as a boulder tumbles down the ridge I think to myself, "I cannot leave this peaceful place" A bird's cry replies, "Take the memory with you."