Quiet Canyon

Swiftly, the stream flows.
Across the canyon, singing can be heard.
Flitting against the sky, birds float on the breeze.
Whistling through the trees,
Fingers of the wind stir the leaves.
Spiciness of fall can be felt on the mistral.
Voices of chinook echo against the canyon palisades.
Lapping against its banks,
the stream gurgles its merry way.
Over all, stillness lays its hand.
the lonely call of the wild can be heard.
Smoky clouds float aimlessly,
As the sun's rays beat down.
Winding through the canyon,
the stream escapes it's confines.
Buzzing of the bees can be heard.
Through the trees,
Mockingbirds sing sweetly.
Everything is peaceful.

~Natalie~

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