As I watch from my window, snow clouds drift in over the mountains, and I think of the ridge filled with pine trees,
and the boulder where I sat and prayed last summer, and that time when she still had cancer, and we held hands looking over the valley.
And I know now, it’s always about looking forward, refusing the scars or being controlled by them.
It’s all about hope and peace falling over us, like snow gently falling from snow clouds…….over the top of the mountain.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies