There is a place that has hills that are mountains
Trees cry out from all sides
It is a relic land carved by water and made by an ocean
The stone stands still to be changed into a spire
Touch it, and feel its power and you shall know its past and future
A thousand springs flow down hills in true flight
The rivers, the water, the color of my dreams
It is a place of green peace
Lonely minds can crave its days
The suns rays flow down to the forest floor to light the buttercups and violets just right
You can be brought to face the true sun
A coyote howls in the night, a beaver splashes by your bed
It is beauty, it is thus, it is the maker of you.
Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas
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