Wide open expanses,
of plains, windswept,
of rains, that wet
the golden grains, in their dances.
Open sky of blue.
An eye, to view,
the wondrous hue
that cloudless skies imbrue.
On hills, my heels
touch not the ground.
These toes sink down into a mound
of loam, so deep, and barefoot, feels
the coolness of the earth, so heals
my soul, renewed, my sighing sound.
Heather hearkens, at my touch,
of times before, when nothing much
would pull my focus, my ungainly crutch
now set aside, made whole by such
beauty found, of fuchsia and blue,
of flowered hillocks, in wettened dew,
and climb, unbent, my vigor thrums
through veins made more to beat like drums.
Willows hold my worth.
My eyes, wide open, unblinking, see
my shadow melded deep to me,
as fingers cull this richest earth,
and in the shade, my soul remade
by tranquil touches of this glade;
my anxiety soon begins to fade.
I breathe in May, and exhale June,
to find, on lips, my Life's long tune.
Health restored, my skin to tingle,
with lips upturned, I hum a jingle
of happiness, of my soul's elation,
while resting in the Lord's creation.
I find I am at home, again.
I find I'm welcomed home.