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No tourist baking
in sunlight and oil
No traffic
except for the elk gathering for breakfast

The cocaphony of car horns
blaring screech of brakes
replaced by the calls
of the cows to their
calves telling them to stay close
man is near the herd moves on

The stillness broken
by the scream of a hungry hawk diving
and the cry of a rabbit before dying
the cicadas stop their song
then start again

the wind caresses the tall grass

And still I stand here
casting and mending
reciting poetry to myself
to ease the rhythm of my cast
my friends would laugh to see me the trout certainly are

But this is my choice
my slice of heaven
that which feeds me
and sustains my soul
when I return to to the rush
and noise that claims me

Until I can return
to the mountains
and the water
and drink my soul
full again