A westward breeze
of soft spring air
woke me from my rest.
In a clearing of ferns and pines
I had sought shelter,
At my weary bodies behest.
I must have slept for quite a while
For my sight when I awoke,
Was that one of, early morn light
and a sight that could evoke,
Such a feeling of awe and wonder
I can scarcely believe it now,
A valley of hills and rivers
had appeared before me somehow.
The emerald green hills
led to gentle winding streams,
Painted with the clearest Azul.
The jade-fire trees
threw pine into the breeze,
And shown like the valleys own jewels.
And when the sun first peaked the hills
The whole valley set ablaze with light,
Each emerad blade and azul drop,
reflected the sun so bright.