has passed my way,
the waters I did flay;
mind you – all was not lost,
for those flies that I had tossed,
at those brookies – speckled gray.
The mountains lent,
that sweet balsam scent,
limited by shadow’s extent –
the snow rested in the hollows,
a hatch calls forward the swallows,
in my surroundings I was quite content.
The mountain peaks,
their eroded age speaks,
between – a myriad of creeks;
a fish here or there hides from me,
an otter or two – a deer family of three,
from somewhere high above an eagle shrieks.
A creel quite empty does not,
leave on this summer day a blot,
I relish every day – this beautiful spot;
its mountain peaks, snow, trees and fauna,
to others it is not much – but to me it is nirvana,
days like this should not be wasted, a few does He allot.
© Copy written for what I will never know.