Still

Still, I sit and listen

The rushing of the rills

The whispering of the Aspens

A tender, constant rhythm

Something I call home

In the midst of Gods creation

I watch the

Habits of the critters

And absorb the peace of colors

Uniform spontaneity

Is the pattern of the flowers

Blended greens and browns

Brush her sacred floor

And above, the blue envelops

It surrounds the other colors

It makes me feel secure