The waterfall of the east

Walking through the college greens 

On a warm night

Some random song stuck in my head

Playing on repeat once again

Smelling the new flowers blooming 

In the garden near my favorite picnic table

Humid air drifts through the streets

Carrying the scent of damp leaves

The birds sing songs of joy 

While gathering food for their young

Flowers begin to sprout among the grass and moss

Pride of bovine kind

Wanderer of the mountains 

None could best a yak