Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
Six women gathered,
and waited for streaks of light to climb over the hills.
We stopped --some standing, others seated.
A crisp breeze hurried by,
stirring mountain laurel and pawpaw shrubs.
When the first spell of light
touched a chestnut oak, the women
slipped out of their shoes,
and began to hum. Not really a hum,
but a sound that gathers, calls out names.
Amazing Grace, How Sweet the sound
Their voices leaned out over the field.
Everyone stilled as the notes
drifted and swelled,
over the mountains
Linda Watskin ©2010