The voices of yesterday echo in my heart, it beckons me, whispers songs of a place I once knew. It is a place high up in the snow capped mountains where the shriek of a hawk can be heard for miles through the canyons. A place where the smell of pine cones and open meadows bathes the senses and cleanses the mind. And the open air is so precious it can breathe life into all things it touches. It is a place where the melting white snow drips ever so delicately into fresh morning creeks collecting into streams that rush through giant boulders, culminating in a thunderous crescendo down the sides of mountains. A place where the trees grow so tall it can touch the heavens. A place where God’s creatures are free to roam. This is the golden place I once called home. And now, in the dark of night, in the midst of life, I am Homeward Bound. -W
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