As I sit here staring at these peaks, this lake, this life
My children with toes buried up to their ankles
The gentle slap of water on sand
And try to imagine a life without
this place....
without this warm sun....
without the evergreen, cedar skeletons, pebbles, solitude.....
On this perfect May day
in this place that I call home
but is not the home of my birth
And will I ever feel fully at home
as at home as a birth-right allows?
Is this the gift we give our children
without them knowing it
This security of belonging
to a mountain vista
never questioning
only living
only alive
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