New Horizons. Poem by dave lessard

From the little rise I stop,
gazing at the plains below;
it's sweet solace to the eye,
nature's grandeur in its flow.
High above, the sun is bright,
in the azure sky, it's gleaming;
there's no shadows that I see,
where golden rays are streaming.
Here, the air is crisp and clean,
puffs of clouds are floating by;
this is now, my adopted land,
where I live and where I'll die.
Here, in the Central Highlands,
Arizona's my new home;
with horizon's broad enough,
for this gypsy "boy" to roam.
I reach the further ridgetop,
my lungs and limbs still sound;
seek out the spot I started,
and with vigor, head back down.