Tuesday, November 19, 2013 • categorized in #365poems
The incredible thing about a mountain,
or even a hill
or that valley that stretches on
beneath that brilliant, changing carpet of trees,
is that it is still becoming,
it is still happening before our eyes.
It began a long time before our families were our families,
and they are rolling up in front of us
as they have before and will after.
They are in the middle of their story,
and we are in the middle of ours.