Riverside

 As I look, I see the old dead fir laying over the creek.

It's cold waters flowing from the mountains above.

The ripples created from the rocks below.

The pines so tall, it blocks out the blue sky.

The berry bushes and undergrowth blanket the forest floor.

The trout, the salmon swimming the currents, finding a deep pool to relax and rest.

The edges of the creek dressed in rocks, small to boulder.

Birds flying ever so low, squirrels and other critters playing around.

The sounds of the forest creek, it's song of nature playing its tune.

I dip the water ever so cold, from the ice and snow of the mountains above.

Butterflies looking for wildflowers, stopping here and there, their pretty colors of orange and gold.

I take in the beauty of it all.

Watching the shadows of the water from the bugs swimming by.

The sun, it's peeking out as I sit under the limbs of trees, casting their shadows of coolness as I sit on a log.

The breeze is of chill with the smell of smoke from the camp fires above.

Michael VanDyke   C@ 2023