If for a moment you feel in awe to nature, and have the urge to walk off the beaten path, why should you not? And why should others not follow you?
Several miles east of Stinson beach, A slippery blue serpent weaves and coils in-between the rocks and trees, The water is clean and clear, And when you feel it numbingly washing over your hand you wonder if it was not moving it would solidify into an icy slide, It splashes onto moss-covered rocks, Making them slippery and treacherous to cross, The redwood branches capture some of the sunlight, Like gold fish in a net that is far too big, Beams of light sparkle on the river, If you stare into the water you can see your reflection swirl and distort, Like a fun house mirror, The ground is soft and spongy and laced with green plants and fallen leaves, The air is foggy and moist, Causing dew to form on your tongue as you breath in long heavy breaths from hiking, Deer sip from the ice cold river, Birds chirp away in the trees, Hawks perch on the highest peak of the hills eyes piercingly vibrant as if they can peer into your very soul, If for a moment you feel in awe to nature, and have the urge to walk off the beaten path, why should you not? And why should others not follow you?