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Foothills 080916

James Michael Taylor

It’s a small town event. Woodlake, California. East side of the San Joaquin Valley. 14 miles from where all those “Lindsey” olives you see on your grocery store shelves come from. The Woodlake Echo, says, “In the foothills of the Sequoias”.

FOOTHILLS

There’s a bend in the road
at the bridge at Lemon Cove
Where Kaweah flows cold into Lake Bravo
It’s a joy to my nose
when the orange blossom glows
In the foothills of my soul

In the crisp Woodlake air
I will bridal my mare
Take the back roads and share
In the fresh morning air
I will ride, I will run
til the glow of the dawn
In the foothills of my soul

Feel the breeze in my hair
May it always be there
The Sequoias above
And the olives below
In the foothills of my soul

It’s all part of my past
And I hope it will last
Til my last breath is lost
In the shadows
I will drive my old car
Top down beneath the stars
In the foothills of my soul

Feel the breeze in my hair
May it always be there
The Sequoias above
And the olives below
In the foothills of my soul
The redwoods above and the oranges below
In the foothills of my soul

© 2016 Royal T Music

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