Nestled in a canyon awash with color and life,
faint sound of waves crashing on the distant shore.
Miles and miles of earth gently pass under foot.
Soft winter sun warms my skin,
reminds me of summers past.
I let the memories slide easily through my mind,
grateful for the time to think,
for the spaciousness to let my thoughts
unfold in their own rhythm,
not scrambled and anxious
like the wound up city.
We find ease in our stride,
inspiration from our unfurling dreams.
We plant seeds of what we'll accomplish,
of our heart's desires.
The sun slips below the mountain
winds arise in it's absence.
We huddle close in the crisp, dark night.
Flames dance before our eyes,
we whisper secrets under cover of darkness,
grasp hands for warmth and strength.
And at the end of a long day
we happily crawl into the tent,
a pile of blankets awaits.
We hold each other tight as the cold air
moves in and out of our lungs.
Our breath synchs with the trees and grasses around.
We remember our roots as earth dwelling humans,
just as much a part of nature
as the concrete world we've created.
