I sing of camping trips in the forest

         of quiet fishing on the lake,

         of cool gentle breezes

         supplying us with an escape from the blazing sun.

I sing of the flowing current of a stream

         that laps at the sides of our canoes,

         of the drip! drip! of falling raindrops

         as they unite with the surface of the stream.

I sing of sweet smelling winds,

         that cause the leaves to intricately dance

         according to natures music,

         of laughter as children weave in

         and out of trees in a playful game.

I sing of crimson twilights streaked with gold,

         of slowly sinking sun

         as it meshes with the trees,

         and allows nights embrace to overcome it.