Beauty dwells in this land.
She sleeps on the flat bed of the plains,
covered in soft blankets of trees, fields,
red roofed houses, and iron-red soil.
Her slumber is guarded by a shimmering curtain
of mountains fading in mist.
She stands, strong and imposing
Rising in stark peeks swathed
In lush green woods.
In her lap she cradles glistening
Lakes and falls, fragile towns and mournful ruins.
The people come and go, live, grow
And die, conquer and are defeated
And she smiles upon them all.
She spreads her strong arms into
The cold salt sea and waves
To her tiny island offspring.
Every stone and branch stands
As testimony to her creator
The one who creates beauty.
---Written May 18, 2008 while in Croatia