The earth grooms and shelters itself.
It combs and sweeps the smooth rocks and sweet rivers.
The fresh taste of the wind still lingers on my tounge.
the sweet smell of victory is indented into the core.
Forevermore.
The birds fly over head looking for a branch to offer rest.
The creeks tarries endlessly, carving there way through the trees and rocks and mountains.
They flow gentel and soft, quiet and smooth.
They offer all they are with every drop.
Sip and befull, drink and bask in it's delight.
Rest on the bank of tender soft moss.
Listen to the trees whisper the truth about this place.
It was made for good.