The Hills of Home

I wander each day in the hills near home
To capture the rebirth of Spring
The grass is green, the flowers in bloom
The lark is on the wing.

The brook is full from the winter rains
The air is crisp and clear.
White fluffy clouds scud across the sky
The faraway hills seem near.

A sweet gentle breeze again fills the air
With a scent that has long been away.
Soft Spring earth helps cushion my step
I know Spring is here to stay.

With the sun shining, the bluest of skies
The song of a bird in the air,
Come join me now as I walk in the hills
A lifetime of rapture is there.