Treading downhill carefully, step by step,
Tumbling streams forge channels through the path,
Moss and young fir cones lie in pools washed down by rain.
The green banks are a jungle of ferns and blackberries still in blossom and bud,
Patterned with delicate flowers of yellow and pink.
Purple foxgloves stand erect like spires.
Walking through grass shimmering with raindrops to the River;
Sound of rushing water increasing with each step:
The River, black, in spate, violent in its speed and flow.
Trees on the banks bent back by its force and power.
It crashes against rocks, creating whirling eddies of foam.
Swirling water glints momentarily in the rays of the sun.
I sit on a rock, wonder at the savage beauty of the River.
Then, gaze beyond at the undulating lines of green hills:
Cows graze or lie down in distant meadows.
I wonder what nests in the hollow tree by my side?
I close my eyes: listen, every sense alive.
My soul is filled with Peace.