Reflections from an Open Window
Linda Raha's Writing Corner
I breathe in the mountain air; day or night, it is good for the soul. Later, I will remember my breath suspended in puffs; it is the exhale of too many worries. The evergreen trees tower above me, monuments of strength; the tiny birds rest easy in the branches. Here, on top of the mountain,
We climb our mountains one day at a time; still, the clock so steady, meters out the moments. I watch the sheep in the valley; they leap, they eat, and as darkness settles, they sleep. Soundlessly, I listen; I listen as one who seeks to know the mystery of the mountains. I know that mountains