I rode up onto a hill with a bit of time to kill
Looking out over the valley, with smoke coming off the mountain
I thought about a thought and what makes it beautiful
Beauty in mathematics or science, that I know
the simple answer that opens a door of new understanding
like the keys to an important room
The beautiful novel is a bit harder, but still understandable
Characters that flow, scenes that tell, and truth to the plot are all there
making you believe that you are one with the book
And beauty in the particular can seemly always be found,
whether it is work or God, there seems to be beauty abound, except my thought
The beautiful thought seemed to elude me
I mount up while watching an eagle swoop over the lake,
wonder whether I should go forward or back, when with a fall I learn anew
that one beautiful thought at a time for me
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