Alpine Meadows

Dry, bare, gray skeletons
remain in the alpine meadow;
stand bowing down to the rocks
to become the soil, the womb
of sweet-scented new life.

Their last moan can be heard
in a warm gust of wind rising
from a sun-sparkled river
entrenched in jade-green walls
far below this wind-swept crest.

Protected by a rugged rocky ridge
green trees stand at the edge
starkly contrasting the blue/white sky.
I feel their roots reaching
for blessed waters
from streams gently moving
deep within the living rock.

Sparkling dew on wild flowers
reflects a million coloured suns
and beyond this pleasant canvas
bare rocky peaks thrust upward
marking the visible horizon.

Softly, a gentle breeze speaks
to my jealous soul, my hungry heart.
My tired mind pauses in awe
at revelations of beauty, of serenity
awakening my natural senses:

Finally, here, I can let go
the gray skeletons of a past that’s gone
and release myself to bliss;
finally I feel I’ve found
my own door to paradise!