Days Gone By

There are memories of the
stars,
the milky way spread
venerable and open
shooting over the west facing ridge,

of climbing mountain tops
and finding god in a hailstorm
that passes quickly
and opens the sky to
a sunset that weaves out over
the world,
covering the pines and cedars
in calming hues of red and pink,

of days spent next to lakes
whose watery backbones rub
against sheer rock outcroppings
in a gentle fashion that I have
never been able to
mimic,

of small birds flitting and
darting in the manzanita
and of friendships
formed over the laughter of a fire.