Out Hiking J. M. Strother We walk among trees - oak and hickory, Down paths worn by many feet And listen to birds on wing. The air is heavy with rain, Low gray clouds hang in the sky. Cross the bridge 'ore bubbling creek And look for fish and tadpoles. Then up hill to top the ridge, Canopy thins, flowers grow. There is thrashing in the brush. We pause and listen, so still, Hoping that luck will bring a deer to see.

 
~jon
My Blog - Mad Utopia Writing in a new era.