Photo  by Susan Houghtaling Odom 2001

An Evening Prayer

Fog in the cove drifts and swirls upward,
An essence of pine wafts on the air,
An old logging road is grown with clutter,
A stream gently gurgles an evening prayer.
Pink lady-slippers nod with the rain,
Mountain laurel sheds its petals of white,
Sourwood blooms lure the honeybees again,
Sipping their fill before the night.
A red-tailed hawk soars wild and free,
A bobcat stirs in his lair,
As the bewitching blue hills work their magic,
Their embrace negates all care.
As the enchanting blue hills work their magic,
The stream gently whispers an evening prayer.

Copyright2001
J. Harold Thurmond
 
 

 Rabun Ramblings
 

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