The sun is low on the horizon

A campsite beckons not far off

Upon arrival I am upset

For among the tall grass

Garbage is scattered every where

The sign of wayward campers

I unload my gear

Setting up a campsite

Before the night approaches

I rest upon a rock

By the river’s edge

Enjoying the quiet and peace

That is to be had

Along the flowing river

Marveling at the reflective colors

Of green,gold and blue

Upon the river’s surface

The evening light is waning

I retire for the night

The night is now

Full of noises

From the rustle of night creatures

In the nearby woods

To the haunting call of

A great Horned Owl

That is answered further downriver

As I lay abed

Falling asleep under the canopy of stars