Sacred Hill Misted ~a poem by Linda Willows

Life sparks to rare
in your green misted air
filled with the magic,
the mystic, the night solitaire.
No single one can
lay claim or come heir,
to a sacred hill misted
with God’s Holy Air.

© Linda Willows

Photograph by Ben Marar

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6 thoughts on “Sacred Hill Misted ~a poem by Linda Willows

  1. The Sacred is forever with us in Nature’s ways
    Of Being there for all to see, but subtly hidden.
    E’n the Mystic passing by can miss the signs
    That shine with Sacred Light. The Lord behold!

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