• From grassy vales,
    To sun-filles hills,
    The wind sweeps through it all.
    Gently blowing,
    First in,
    Then out.

    The bobcat dances through the grass,
    Gently landing with graceful feet.
    Every grass, every plant,
    Lightly tickles its body.

    The old oak creaks in somber sleep,
    As the wind gently pushes its leaves to and fro.
    Towering over the bobcat, the oak shares its cool shade.

    The bobcat, now tired, sleeps softly,
    Not a peep in its deep clumber.
    Under the old oaks leaves,
    Under the bright yellow sun.