Bear’s Point on Lake Ann
Notes: My poem is inspired by listening to the music “Home,” by Phillip Phillips, and being at home on Lake Ann in the Ozarks, Bella Vista, Arkansas.

I live high up on an Ozark hill

overlooking my beloved Lake Ann.

On this November day—

soft breezes rustle through the trees

in autumn’s cool, crisp, and misty layered air.

As I walk this sacred ground,

peacefulness and blessings come to my day.

Where rich, earthly scents,

fallen leaves and abundant harvests give us —

Baked Honey Crisp apples

and sweet Honey cakes.

Watching fireflies light up,

warm campfires and long nights.

Slow flickering embers and swirling wood smoke,

smoldering— Bitternut Hickory nuts

and Black walnuts, too,

as they relinquish their pungent oils.

Pine trees stand solemn along the mountain ridge,

and this green earth cups its mighty hands!

Dressed in harvest red rubies and gilded gold,

in bright sunlit hillsides, ablaze as fire.

Gratitude abounds here!

November’s content—

knowing this low ebb.

A  playful dawn before winter’s slumber,

falling into the silvery mercury light of day.

Where sunshine warms these labored hands

and leaves this restless heart behind.

Forever here, I walk these ancient hills,

Forever young . . .