A riotous display of buttercups so wild and yellow,
Dazzled their own brilliance and shock of colour,
Late spring with the suns warmth touching everything below,
The natural life of this land in balance,
While it feels the atmosphere that drifts so high,
Clouds billowing up for no ones business,
As it will tease that lovely blue sky,
Again below the land hopes for its own reasons,
All this fresh air around will float on just a care,
We breathe in all this clean aura,
Then make our way towards the Chehalis woodland flora,
Roman goddess of flowers for her name the source,
To hear the bells chime,
A quaint notion but the breeze makes us hear the leaves,
Too enter the many galleries among these trees,
So tiny and blue and smelling so sweet,
Oh, for the wild hyacinths which live there; would be the bells that greet.
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