As I was standing and wondering,

on Pilot Mountain fair.

A curious breeze ruffled and lifted

a lock of my ginger hair.

A wayward breeze just passing by

on this summer day so fine?

Or was it the hand of God touching me?

Alas, I cannot cypher the divine.

Rays of the sun refreshed my skin

promising birth of new freckles.

Amid a grove of tall scented pines

a chattering chipmunk heckles.

I had a moment when the daffodils

seemed to bow down to me.

Butterflies floated, bees buzzed

Goldfinches sang in harmony.

Whether or not it’s His touch, true

I choose to accept is as so.

For now in my inner sanctum

peace and harmony re-glow.

© D.B. Hall

Excerpt from the book “Pebbles in the Stream”

About the Author

David Hall was born in a small town called Mount Airy (A.K.A Mayberry) nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains which are part of the large Appalachian Mountain chain. His early life involved a lot of traveling with his missionary parents, which involved stints of living in Mexico and Bolivia. His poetry reflects a love for nature and life mixed with a sense of the rustic Americana spirit and sprinkled with a lingering sense of the spiritual guidance infused by his southern religious upbringing. David has always been able to live in the moment enjoying it to the fullest while being able to be separated within himself seeking something more. Poetry is one of those outlets that gives him that something more. The diversity of genres and endless array of topics allow him to dive into poetry with reckless abandon or with fine-tuned precision; whichever is needed. Like a prism there are many sides of David, from the emotional connections when dealing with death, to the touch of the spring breeze on your neck hairs, David’s poetry can put you there.

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