The Mountain Valley

The shadows cast in a thousand directions,
Of the hundred different typs of trees,
The sun looming in the sky,
Looks as if it were to fall,

The mountains surround the valley,
And a river splits the ground in half,
And when the river's halfway through,
It, almost proudly, splits in two,

And the sky must be forbidden to the clouds,
For there hasn't been a one all week,
But the grass shines a bright green,
Which most people could never know,

The riverbanks have such soft sand,
The bed has pebbles and boulders,
And from the top of the trees,
You can clearly see the river's 'Y'
Hiding under the mountain's arch,

And bushes row along the banks,
Surrounding grasses grown to one foot high,
And the berries of the bushes,
Are occasionally stolen by the forest,

And a fish swims here and there,
Surfacing from time to time,
And the spreading ripples in the water,
Seem to repel one another.