50 Feet Above Sea Level in Tualco Valley -

As I stare with my dog friend Otter, into the campfire sparks, flamingly ablaze,
Our thoughts swirl and float up, grey and thick, mixing with the smoky, swirling, haze,
With Otter, a overcast spring rain is coming down upon us, and our friends, the spring frogs,
Together we listen and think, as it wrings and rinses out, our saturated, mossy minds fogs.

One might think, that this is not right, or even seasonally, strangely spent time in the rain,
But to me and Otter, its much needed time outdoors, spent soggy, with much for us to gain,
As we dont like other recreational activities, or crowds and sports, or loud fast race cars,
But we like to campfire in Tualco Valley, and watch above on clear nights, the moon and the stars.

We are not strange, but in fact, we are both witfull, and thoughtfully, rather kinda normal,
Even though, we always look like farmers and dogs, in the flatland, wearing our fur and flannel,
As this is our life we have made, and this is the life we are from, and appreciate, and do like,
Ever since being both born into Tualco Valley, and into the foothills trees, if we uphill take a hike.

We do know and understand our placement in life, situated precisely where we greatfully are,
Which is 50 feet above sea level, in Tualco Valleys fertile farmland, marked with many tractors scar,
We can go up if we like into the foothills, or down deeper into the boggy, saturated, flatland,
But to have the valley to oneself anymore, is hard to find, but theres always plenty of sand.

So we just watch it all blow over somedays, in the skies above, as we stay put and enjoy,
As we watch the world run its course everday, with no one else, but us to certainly annoy,
Sometimes the worlds comes to visit us, and says sometimes, lets be neighbors, or friends,
As it is welcoming here, come visit us sometime, as Tualco Valleys friendship has no ends.

D. M. Beebe