On the mountainside there is a line
above which no trees can grow.
And it’s beautiful and stark,
and this place I have known.
When I stepped out beyond
the forest’s warm embrace
and felt the loneliness
and the wind in my face.
I tried to turn back,
but my descent was blocked.
I had to face the mountain.
On and on I walked.
And so I climbed on,
scrambling across the snow.
The wind battered my face
and I knew not where to go.
But then a path opened up
to a new and different forest.
And it welcomed me
with songbirds in a chorus.
And finally I came to rest
in a warm and lovely home
where I was greatly welcomed
and told I never had to go.
Comments