ON THE WAY TO HAZEL GREEN
I pass through the gap
where pines and birches
blend sheer rock
chiseled to make a road
fog hangs on the hills
like mysterious smoke
Chimney rocks formed
by ancient magma
mark the skyline
leaves change color
in the celebrations of passing time
sun soaked clouds
streak the landscape.

I roll with the hills
float with the wind
and sing songs.

Tony Sexton