An Unopened Book
Pinecone Boats
Branches of tall pines creates a shadowed cover.
Against the heat of the Uinta's summer days.
Slow moving gentle streams, softly sings,
to me a sweet lullaby.
Calming my soul while my trusted pen writes.
I could ask for no better place,
Nor could my imagination build it.
Could this solitude in the mountains be heaven?
In complete peace I happily watch,
my young son running around gathering pinecones.
Which to his beautiful mind make perfect boats.
My thoughts are confirmed by his joyous laughter.
Heaven can be found here on earth.
It is here in the Utah, High up in the majestic mountains.
With my little blonde haired son,
and his perfect pinecone boats.
Against the heat of the Uinta's summer days.
Slow moving gentle streams, softly sings,
to me a sweet lullaby.
Calming my soul while my trusted pen writes.
I could ask for no better place,
Nor could my imagination build it.
Could this solitude in the mountains be heaven?
In complete peace I happily watch,
my young son running around gathering pinecones.
Which to his beautiful mind make perfect boats.
My thoughts are confirmed by his joyous laughter.
Heaven can be found here on earth.
It is here in the Utah, High up in the majestic mountains.
With my little blonde haired son,
and his perfect pinecone boats.
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Pinecone Boats
Pinecone Boats
