Unto My Hills

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I cherish this blessing, my woodsy hillside view, like way back when …
but, then I felt safer up there all alone, way up top in escape of farm
I watched birds soar o’er field and creek, wondered where they’d been
Dreamed and schemed, a grand wedding with a Prince of great charm.
 
I could not run fast enough, I grew up and moved away from home.
Older now, reflecting upon memories, many painful, a few precious gold.
Floating jewels of lemon yellow, watermelon red, and lime green on that dome,
Déjà vu, my heart beats young again, colors hauntingly vivid and bold.
 
Tennessee hills steeped in history, dressed in finery every Fall
Breath taking down a bumpy memory lane, yet comforting from the sill
Ghosts in the shadows, whispers and laughter amongst trees so tall
embraced by Jesus, caressed by fire’s glow, savoring my home, on my hill.
 
Gina Ann Day © 1999
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permission before using a poem in any form.
 
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