The dream was of a cabin
hidden somewhere high
in the mountains near
a clear rocky stream
whose music was sweetest
after the spring snow had melted
and filled it with melody.

Dawn brought the song
of a bluebird from a distant
meadow red with blooming paintbrush,
as I woke to stoke the stove with pine
to warm the room and scent the cabin air.

I left early for the trail that
led up the mountain, where
I watched the sun rise
to baptize the world
with holy light once more.

03/14/2009

Posted on 03/15/2009
Copyright © 2024 Richard Davis