if day has to become night

The mountain high

The mountain high
the valley low
the ducks go quack!
moo! Cows go.
The river swift
the ocean deep
the days go by
look! A sheep!
Everyone turns
and they stare
look, they're looking
at the hare!
The animals
at work and play
are so fuzzy
aren't they?
The lakes and ponds
serene and calm
the trees stand tall
from oak to palm.
The grass is lush
like the softest bed
nothing at all
to fear, to dread.
In a clearing
a summer home
lies waiting for all
who wander or roam.