Gravel crunches beneath my feet,
the meadowlark sings it's song,  
Low morning sun breaking upon the dawn.

Across the valley the back lit blue Cascades
majestically fence off the Eastern sky,
as if to hold back the light.
Mount Hood wears the emerging sun,
like a lighted crown upon her regal peak.

Out in the valley harvested golden wheat
fields stand side lighted and resplendent,
stalks shimmering with nighttime dew.  

Ground hovering Fog off the river,
to the eyes delight, rising with the sun.
Crisp clean air as Fall descends,
blowing chill breath around my ears.
Oh how sweet to be right here,
and look upon this sight.