Spellbound

 SPELLBOUND

by Grandma Edna Gordon

Seneca Elder

I am spellbound when my eyes

capture the height of a mountain.

I wonder, would my dreams reach so high?

If I could challenge the towering mountain

and look down into the valley below,

would I be satisfied with the green pastures?

When I follow a cool, winding brook,

I often ask, “Just where does it end?”

And I wonder, “How far in life could I go?”

I sit and listen to the lapping of the sea.

now peaceful, now angry,

like my heart within.