My Soul

My soul moves like the clouds swirling along the mountain tops on a late summer afternoon,

Dreams about riding a painted pony through the prairie grass,

Smells like fresh-cut hay in the mountain meadow,

Feels like the orange-yellow-red-pink glow that makes way for the new day’s sun,

Has been seen breathing in the vastness, the spaciousness, the peacefulness of this magical place.

~ Cheri Pallett