High On A Mountain
When I was a young man, I would often walk for days in the mountains
of Colorado and New Mexico. At each fork in the trail, I would stop and
debate which direction to follow, and sincerely wish that I could follow
both. Even today, when I close my eyes, I still see the entire world
spread before me just as it was from the top of the trail high in the
Weminuche Wilderness! The inevitable choices between this path or that,
seem
to have always led to a new and even more thrilling vista of
possibilities!
This morning, this poem came unbidden to my tongue. I hope that you and each of my children and grandchildren will find paths as free and memorable as those which lay before me!
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High On A Mountain
Free as the wind
A path lies before me
Shall I follow it then?
Through meadows of Springtime,
To the valley below,
Heedless I tarried
Where sweet waters flow.
I found a cabin
‘Tween the high mountains arms.
I thought myself sheltered
From evil and harms.
The cold Winter came.
It covered with snow
The path I had followed
Those long years ago.
Yet, deep in my memory,
Etched in my heart,
Lies the path that I followed
From where it did start.
High on a mountain
And free as the wind,
Through meadows of Springtime…,
I would follow again!
J.I. - Winter of 2022
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