MOUNTAINS

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Scarcely tall but never short, Brown and green or white topped black. These giants look as if alert, To the changes and echoes of the world.   Go hiking, camping or on a ride, The hills and birds will always be there. The animals sleep and rise every morn, But maybe you'll see one on its rise.   The sun shines brightly through the trees. Shaking the leaves for all to hear, The winds are sparkling as if too dance, For all those animals walking at last.   The feeling of the wind on my face,  Is almost as special as the smell of the trees. I look forward to my next adventure, Because for me it is the best.

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