ALPINE MEADOWS Dry, bare, gray skeletons still remain in the alpine meadow. They stand bowing down to the rocks to become the soil, the womb of sweet-scented new life. Their last moan can be heard in a warm gust of wind rising from a sun-sparkled river entrenched in jade-green walls far below this wind-swept crest. Protected by a rugged rocky ridge green trees stand at the edge of the meadow starkly contrasting the blue/white sky; their roots reach for blessed waters from streams gently moving deep within the living rock. Sparkling dew on wild flowers reflects a million coloured suns and beyond this pleasant canvas bare rocky peaks thrust upward marking the visible horizon. Softly, a gentle breeze speaks to my jealous soul, my hungry heart. My tired mind pauses in awe at revelations of beauty, of serenity awakening my natural senses: Finally, I can let go the gray skeletons of a past that’s gone and releasing myself to bliss, I approach the door to paradise!