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