Treasure Hunt

I like to rise at the crack of dawn
And sit quietly for a while
With thoughts set free to wander
Across the years and miles.
I do not know where they will go
Nor what treasures they will find
I only know they often seek
The back roads of my mind.
Sometimes they choose a moss-green path
Where wintergreen and laurel grow;
Sometimes freshly-hoed furrows
Where corn stands, row on row;
Sometimes they find a weathered wall
Where rambling roses cling;

Sometimes they taste sweet water
From a clear, cold mountain spring.
Then they come winging back to me
O'er wooded hills and sleepy farms.
They place the treasures they have found
Into my waiting arms.
I hold them close, then one by one
With the sun's first golden ray,
Through my open window
I watch them fly away.
Then I count my many blessings
As I bow my head to pray,
I thank God for treasured memories,
And the promise of a bright new day.

~ Goldie Counts