The sky, a pure blue,
dabbled with wisps of white clouds
the sun, beautiful and bright,
so bright I have to squint to write
underneath are mountains
distant and overlapping
blanketed by a morning fog
underlined by trees
a rigid prickly line
with no pattern
sealing me into a valley
encased are sloping hills,
lonely trees, families of trees, dead trees,
bushes and thickets abound
running down the center of the valley
dividing it perfectly in two
is a river zig-zaging through
glistening from the sun's rays
speaking with a whispering rush
so pleasant to my ears
so peaceful to my heart
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