Sage

The granite ground sparkles
Sun beating down releasing scents
Green lichen brown grass and sage
Dried horse manure too.

Through the polished white poplars
The river glistens crashing over rocks
Thundering
Misty droplets drifting.

High above a hawk is calling
Wings spread wide
Soaring on the wind
Like a dream coming true
Free as can be.

He looks up and watches
Breathing the fresh mountain air
The sweet scent of clarity.