my mind
has wandered
off to the hills
again
back to the place
where jack rabbits pray
and memories stay
among dusty
old ridges
that form spiky
green bridges
as sage brushes sigh
from one hill
to the next
a shimmering army
of huddled
lone clumps
that pool and gather
the magical light
forming and reforming
in tan green and blue
a kaleidoscope so bright
a mandala
of sight that gels into
stones of imagination
hidden deep
within the pockets
of my mind
where my hand
constantly slips
to finger these bright
gems of memory
longing to return
and find my space
in the gentle folds
and majestic holds
of this old place
under skies
of unimaginable blue
that tint everything
a golden hue
and my heart
lives under
a shady old rock
by the side
of the road
peering out
as travelers glide by
their eyes
walking across
distant peaks
their souls
joining me
as we collect
in this valley of
memory
awaiting the day
and dreaming a way
to get back home
no longer to roam
but to lay down
and rest
in this palace
of the west
and to finally know
we have found
the way home
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