“What is it,” they always ask,
“That will see you most fulfilled?”
“Let me think,” I say,
“Well, for starters, a lake that is most still,
And perhaps a river that rushes,
And winds through rocks and trees.
Or maybe it’s the cold air that fills my lungs!
The air found only in the high country.
Then again, it could be the mist!
The kind that caps the mountains in the middle of the day,
Or the rays of sun that break up the clouds,
Illuminating the landscape in proud display.
It could be trails or paths that lead,
To places I’ve never been.
It could be lakes or ponds or falls,
The ones I’ve visited again and again.
Oh! Let’s not forget the meadows,
Spread vast and filled with the wildest of flowers,
The places in which you can wander,
Where you can lose yourself for hours and hours.
I think it might be a rod and reel,
Baited for trout on an autumn morn,
And drinking coffee from a tin cup,
Just after dawn, when the day is born.
It might be laughing at a joke,
Atop a mountain, high, somewhere,
Or feeling the wind kiss my face,
And run its wispy fingers through my hair.
I suppose these things to be wonderful,
My brand of adventure to be explored.
But, what truly fills one’s heart,
Is sharing this, that, or anything with those whom you adore.
For the greatest lesson I ever learned,
And the truth of it loudly rings,
Look to the nouns for the order of life:
People. Places. Things.”