Under Grumpa's Hat

I left behind winters of snow,
where the cold stitched its weight in my bones,
for mountains that breathe in green silence,
a gentler place to call home.

Here seasons don’t argue with time,
the sun holds a steady embrace,
the rain is a hymn in the evening,
the mornings are kissed into grace.

I came to discover serenity,
to quiet the rush of the years,
and found that the hush of these valleys
can soften a lifetime of fears.

The people live richly in kindness,
“Pura Vida” their truth and their song,
they remind me that joy is in presence,
not in where we hurry along.

Each day is a gift to be opened,
as if it might be my last,
a prayer on the wind through the palms,
a peace that I never knew past.

God speaks in the hush of these hills,
in whispers of rivers that flow,
and I, in my season of resting,
have traded the frost for the glow.

So here in these mountains I linger,
content with the path I now tread,
the journey was never about distance,
but finding my soul well-fed.

Mostly though, away from the sounds,
a never experienced peace I have found,
one that I share with great pride,
with the love of my life, by my side.