The valley hides the day, and on its silent trails no sounds disturb the peace. But above, the rounded heads of hills are illuminated in the turning of the world. From here,the gushing waters from a high alpine lake become silver strands disappearing into the depths. Then a thin slice of light cuts a line on a ridge, while nearby, the old mine ruins appears in a pool of morning light. In this green pastured, scented scene, the old rusted wheels and cables are hallowed ground. Somewhere on the edges, along the alder brush, an old brown bear wanders through, making his way back up the mountain pathway. He knows well, in the time before the sun, before the heat and crowds, this solitude is a gift for those who are awake.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Morning Silence
The valley hides the day, and on its silent trails no sounds disturb the peace. But above, the rounded heads of hills are illuminated in the turning of the world. From here,the gushing waters from a high alpine lake become silver strands disappearing into the depths. Then a thin slice of light cuts a line on a ridge, while nearby, the old mine ruins appears in a pool of morning light. In this green pastured, scented scene, the old rusted wheels and cables are hallowed ground. Somewhere on the edges, along the alder brush, an old brown bear wanders through, making his way back up the mountain pathway. He knows well, in the time before the sun, before the heat and crowds, this solitude is a gift for those who are awake.
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I like where you say the "turning of the world" illuminates the rounded heads of hills. Those hill tops see the morning while other places remain in the dark- some of those dark places rarely see full light. Oh, to be a hill top.
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