Valley Stream 

Elegy for a Golden Valley

The golden grasses bow beneath the gray,

As winter steps where autumn used to tread;

The freezing water winds its peaceful way,

Past fallen branches and the leaves they shed.

The distant mountains, towering and high,

Wear heavy shrouds of winter's early white;

While amber hues reflect the fading sky,

A quiet valley washed by gentle light.

But in the chill, a silver stream still flows,

A reminder that the frozen earth will wake;

Though silent now beneath the coming snows,

The earth remembers every path it takes.