I never feel amiss, alone or as a stranger

On days when wandering amongst the trees,

When standing on the hilltop overlooking land of bountiful existence

Or looking at the life’s reflections in blue waters of the sea.

 

I never know rage, hate or urge of violence

At twilight times when rolling in the silky grass,

When sitting on the tree log by the brook watching appearance of the stars

Or young skinny moon looking like her diet has been success at last.

 

I never hear vulgarity, offence or anger

On nights when listening to owls screech,

When lying in the open field imagining the mysteries of life unfold

Or closing my eyes and visioning the stories our ancestors told.

 

I never feel out of place, awkward or lame

When I wake up with roosters before the dawn of day,

When watching sleepy cows chew their grassy breakfast as I chew on my brown toasts

Or hearing horses sighing and sniffing in the impatient waiting to have someone aboard.

 

I never feel amiss, alone or as a stranger

On days when wandering amongst the trees.

 

June 2014