When I look outside my window,

I see this hill.

Behind a beautiful pasture,

My soul it stills.

I see it now,

Amid the rain and thunder.

For a life elsewhere,

I do not hunger.

The fog rolls in,

And blankets the trees.

I hear it speak

Through the falling leaves.

“The storms always pass,

The sun shines through,

This is where

I’ll bid you adieu.”

Copyright. Breauna Krider. 10-18-2012.