On my boulder, on the mountain

I can see the moon reflecting onto the clouds

I can feel the wind whispering encouragement from the Earth into my ears

I can hear the creek’s false malicious roar as it slams into the rocks and runs quickly downward

I breathe in the clear air, refreshing to my lungs when normally, negativity fills my lungs and spaces of my mind

I see the small stars above

And only a piece of the sky, only one puzzle piece in a picture of over a million, but it is my piece of sky. It’s edges are bordered by the scattered branches and twigs of high reaching trees

I reflect upon nature, which in turn reflects upon my life. It wonders who I am, and who I will be. It begs-cries for attention in a nostalgic way, begging to be bursting for life again as the spring comes, because even now, it isn’t what it used to be

On my boulder, on the mountain

I sit and and await the future