My daughter and I travel up the Silver River on Wednesday. Below is a poem of her observations on the trip.
The Knight and His Squire
Ride out one dark morning
On the Hunt.
They tell the sun to meet them at silver waters.
Fog makes islands of trees
As they feed the horsepower.
Sol yawns
And orange ripples on blue sky
Minnows are their welcoming party
Little Blues march unpainted.
Smooth River –
