kahdalea. a poem

There is a place where the mountains meet the sky;

It is nestled in the Blue Ridges where hawks and eagles fly.

The highways are dotted with wildflowers

And the roads are narrow and winding,

And it is this patch of heaven

That I find so spellbinding.

It is here among the rustic cabins where in the afternoon we rest

That I feel most at home- where I'm truly at my best.

Something about the mountain air

Awakens all around-

Awakens those hidden quirks

That are sometimes buried in the ground.

Each June upon arriving, a gaggle of girls awaits-

Shedding tears of joy and megawatt smiles as our bus passes beneath the gates.

The friendships there grow deeper

As the summer comes to pass-

As adventures in those mountains

Create memories that will forever last.

There is a joy about the grounds

Echoed by laughter and folly's piercing sounds.

The challenges are many-

Not for the faint of heart,

Not allowing you to feel lonely,

But distracting  should you start.

I now feel at peace beneath the stars shimmering in the night,

When I’m lying in a hammock, bathed in moonlight

Because out in the trails of Pisgah’s woods,

We adventure in packs.

We adventure and discover beyond our limits

And indulge in our love of trailside snacks.

The trails offer a constant lesson- there's always something new to explore.

More of a teacher than textbooks is nature's ever-open door.

Relying on our creativity and resourcefulness

Has taught us lessons in finesse

Has taught us how to trust our instincts

And brave whatever obstacles put us through challenging tests.

From rock climbing on the cliff faces and resting in their shadow

We return after days and nights to the beautiful valley down below.

Exhausted, dirty,  starving: we return from our trips

Laden with stories-

Laden at times with cuts and bruises-

From our adventures amidst God's glories.

Morning, noon, and night- many a time the forest rings

Deep with vocal and guitar-strummed harmony as the whole camp sings.

Banging on dining-hall tables or sitting round the fire, we raise

Songs sometimes sad and pretty

Songs sometimes wild and witty

Across the mountains -almost to the city.

Ever since that fateful summer when I was a girl of twelve,

I've been forever changed- encouraged to rejoice in myself.

"Just let Him mess with you," Mrs. Anne has been known to say

Encouraging us to live for others each and every day.

Encouraging us to live by example-

Leading others to happy confidence along the way.

When the hydrangeas bloom in early June

And the clear cacaphony of crickets sings in joyful tune,

Round the lake I roam

Round, worn path where in my comfort I've grown,

I know this place will forever be my mountainous home.