poetry, travel, writing

Lamar Valley

A thick haze clings to the sky,

only letting filtered light through

in the early morning hours.

The valley stretches for miles in all directions,

mountains and hills fill in the voids

but disappear in the distance.

Curving streams and creeks wind their way

through the grasses and brush

which offer hiding spots for various wild life.

Bison plod their way across the valley,

stopping for nothing, not even the cars.

They own this land, and everyone gives way.

A lone grey wolf stalks small prey,

circling, walking back and forth,

then looking out to protect his treasure.

Groups of pronghorn dot the hills,

some braver ones find their way to the stream.

The sun rises higher,

the temperatures rise,

and the animals find their way

to shadier spots amongst the distant trees.

Quiet returns to Lamar Valley.

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