Meandering Thoughts

Meandering Thoughts

Friday, August 19, 2011


I love the forest trees high up on the ridge.
I'm in Hocking Hills, where the ancestors lived.
Hocking Hills

They surround me now, as I linger
Having my coffee, I try to remember.

Allowing myself to become a part of the sounds,
as I close my eyes and listen.

I hear the birds morning songs,
making known to the world they have risen.

Each leaf quietly moves with every gentle breath,
providing cover and shade for all to enjoy and become a guest.

The sun rises silently over the hill,
sending it's rays into secret places.

Can you see them hiding in the rocks and mosses,
the ancestors faces?

Cynthia McDonald   -    July 11, 2011

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