High up in the Cimarron "In the high-up world of the Cimarron I wander to a place I've known Sheltered there by giant peaks I hike the trail along the creek And do a little day dream chasin' "Til I finally reach the West Fork Basin The stream surfaces beneath a boulder, And no water was ever colder. Fed by rain and winter snow It begins right here as a narrow flow. Low banks grow thick with luscious grass And wildflowers bloom en masse. Lying on the grassy bench above the stream Is like being part of a peaceful dream; Watching the weasels at their play, And eagles soaring up and away, I could remain has the clouds float by 'Til the moon turns green and theses rocks learn to fly" bj
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