I love the grandeur of the mountains,

the glory of the ocean,

the mesmerizing motion and thundering sound of a waterfall.

I love the vastness of the Canyon’s carvings,

the massive, smooth moving of a mile-wide river,

the serene scale of primeval forest.

But I find something soothing

in the soft beauty of the shadows of the moon

tracing the shapes of birch branches on the snow.

I marvel at the muted glow of a small town’s reflected light

held in the halo of a low sky on a humid night

and the soft crunch beneath my feet as I walk on a gravel street.

But perhaps the things that most captivate me,

that move me to something beyond admiration

are a gentle voice in moments of madness,

a soft touch that can melt away anger,

eyes of sincere affection,

words of genuine appreciation,

and grace that has faced one’s own greatest failures,

the deepest hurts from faithless hearts,

and found in forgiving others

the power to forgive oneself.

H. Arnett

2/26/21