The hills are cold
Winter grows
Moon light touches snow
As another season goes

This land knows
Of every secret told
And life that's grown
Since it holds every bone

As I crouch down
I place my hand to the frozen ground
Knowing the plants will grow
From seeds sewn

I marvel at this place
A friend of old
Who's always home
Who takes me now and when I'm old

Basking in the sun
Every day it comes
Bathing in the moon
Whether quarter, half or full

I take a breath
And smile
Grateful
That for now I call this home.