Where breezes are a-blowing,
'tis there,  that I'll be going,
high in the pines, still green,
viewing places seldom seen;
In the fresh and fragrant air,
hiking sure, without much care,
I revel in the silence,  grand,
with only God to take my hand.
The wind caresses every tree,
blows clouds away so I can see,
the brilliance of the sun so bright,
it magnifies my squinted sight.
The leaves are rustled, with no sound,
here,  the soul at rest is found,
the troubled world lies far below,
and peace just like a river,  flows.
Here,  I find the breezes blowing,
here,  I find contentment, knowing,
that nature soothes the savage breast,
and sometimes... solitude is best.