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 –

Nature’s watercolor.

Tilting giants wave green hands

While showing off their young knees.

The Knight opines,

“Prefer it if they didn’t bow after us.”

Nervous Squire urges

Forward.  Desiring the Tilters

Not gift upon them unwilling obeisance.

Fellow hunters inquire

After the best hunting grounds.

Fitness Pilgrims exercise

Against the current an easy crusade.

Taking in the sights.

Ibis trees stand ripe for the picking.

Anhinga overhang.

The Squire would ask in ignorance,

“What is that one called?”

The Knight retorted,

“Charlie.”

Tiny Dragons fly above.

Behemoths, little smaller than their steed,

Lurk beneath.

Sulfurs pirouette over Spidery Lilies

Whilst Osprey dispute

Over tree-stead rights.

Last living dinosaurs – Ancient Dragons

Bestow a nerve-inducing smirk.

On their backs duckweed settles.

The Knight fires off several shots

At speeds lightning could envy.

The beastie unslain

“Twere wonderful shots!”

Exclaimed the Squire.

Sol grinning fierce

Contends with the titling Giants.

The Knight and his Squire

Return to Queen’s Castle.

Passing Hugging Trees –

Ever so faithful

Skimmers give a Farewell Parade.

The Dragon yawns

At their backs.  The Knight gallops

Back to see the Monster’s Teeth.

After all, they are photograph hunters,

The Knight and his Squire.