My friend Tara asked for some Pine Valley poetry. After reading over my Pop's lengthy Pine Valley historical information and reminiscing about weekends spent there (not to mention the awesome wedding Steve and I had in the chapel there), I came up with this one.
Around a bend in the road
lies an emerald valley.
Untouched by the busyness of day-to-day
traffic and smog and tall buildings.
Sheltered by tall mountains,
fed by streams,
Wind breezes gently,
grasses wave in the air.
A white picket fence marks the beginning
of a pioneer community,
Shaped by the men and women who milled
the trees, plowed the land, and built their homes.
The wooden chapel stands as a monument
to their sacrifices, their struggles, their successes,
to all they endured.
Photo credit: Me, ©2010.
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