ranits123

Stones and rocking pine trees, in the ice blue winter white. Golden fields in the summer sun, gentle breeze of forest wind. My foremother's tender apple pie, sweet from sugar, warm from heart. Toes dirty, grass fresh from morning mist, my land, my home, my soul and me. Embracing waves and forgotten sand, under glare of dark gray sky, Song of bird, so gentle tweet, a long tale, lost and bittersweet. Laughter and sugary lilac scent, rippling ponds and lake, Not memory, nor thought, a feeling, a truth, in myself.