mountains...not sure what it could be...
the early morning fog
hanging on for dear life,
crisp, cool, air
that I breathe
the rustling
brooks that skip and sputter
over the smooth rocks,
the music that I hear with
the fiddle and the banjo,
the easy way of life,
that draws me near,
it might be
the cry of the Cherokee
their hopes and dreams
churches with their steeples
reaching to the sky,
the cows in the valley,
green pasture all around,
the foothills gracing it all,
rolling hills in the countryside,
the rustic barn, old wooden planks
falling down,
country home with its
white columns standing tall,
There's just something that
draws me near
Not sure what it
could be...
sjo
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