I see them rise up over the horizon.
What can I do to bring them nearer?
When I was young, I would climb the hills.
Moss and lichen were spreading slowly.
I watched them prepare the stones for life.
When I came down from the hilltop,
I walked past a tiny stream.
It gurgled noisily beside the path.
I watch it disappear beneath the trees.
I’ll be getting ready for a vacation soon.
I want to see past the mountains.
As I plan my days, I will be creative.
The mundane is surrounding me here.
I want to explore the world.
W. Wayne B.
New poetry book: Eyes of Hope
Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb