He awakens to the sound of birds singing their Praises

Up from his slumber he raises

He straps on his boots

Out from his tent he arises

Peaking through the clouds

The early morning sun shines

The fresh morning dew

Glistens on the bright orange leaves

Of the Sugar Maple trees

His breath he sees

In the crisp Autumn morning air

He inhales deeply

Cleansing his lungs of the dirty city smog

That usually surrounds him like a fog

A bright red cardinal sits in the branches

A deer is drinking from the babbling brook

And he is one with nature

In his soul he finds happiness

And peace