“The view from a Ella Bely park, magnolia mountaintop”

Upon Magnolia’s mist-clad crest, where light  
Is flung in ribbons over Ella Bely Park,  
My breath suspends—the morning’s gentle bite  
Chilled sweet by petal scents and meadow lark.  
Below, the valley stirs with patchwork fields,  
Tea gardens swirling, emerald in repose;  
A river threads its silver through the yields,  
And sleepy rooftops cluster in neat rows.  

The magnolias rise: pale petals blush with dawn;  
They cup the sky, the clouds, the shy sun’s face,  
And every breeze brings memories softly drawn—  
A mother’s laugh, a child’s slow, tumbling race.  

From here, the world seems stitched by hands of grace:  
The mountain’s hush, the valley’s distant chime.  
Each heartbeat echoes in this perfect place,  
Where breath, and view, and day become sublime.

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