A crisp breeze dances off the branches of the mighty ash, A cool breath from the heavens above, Descending down to the rushing river below, Cooling the tempers of the passers-by.
Where they have come from, passions soar, Like a hot August day, Overripe with the heat of summer, As they walk, that feeling fades, And the fresh breeze of autumn takes hold, That cool cleansing clarity overtakes them, And they follow the river as it rushes on.
The soft golden morning light glistened off the rain-soaked pines, An evening of storms reaching its end as the day burst through the night, That gentle golden hue shrouded the forest in the peace of late a summer haze, The shimmering leaves rustled in the gentle breeze, As hummingbirds darted past in the distance, All signs that despite all the calamity, Nature’s powerful play rolls on.
A Mallard cuts through the glassy waters, Golden Eagles soar across the azure expanse of the sky, The mighty wind blows the birch trees in veneration toward the heavens, Pine trees rise from the crashing waves of the mighty sea, They stand roots locked, bracing against time and tide.
There is still a place like this, North of chaos and despair, Far from the cities, A place where Nature reigns supreme, And the gentle roar of the wilderness captures the hearts of all who see it.
This land challenges you, Brains and brawn, But it rewards those who persevere, With beauty that only some have the mettle to behold.