I’m a real pastoral and rustic guy
And definitely ‘til the day I shall die.
Put me in a jungle of concrete towers,
And you’ll find in me a man that cowers,
Cringes and crouches in repulsive awe,
Of man’s modern miracles of perfect flaw.
Clogged veins and arteries of Main Street,
From fuming cars and crowds of hurried feet.
Everyone vying to make a profit and some green
At all costs and means even if to prude and preen.
The hustles and bustles of chaos and confusion,
Emitting potent pollens of poisoned pollution
And so occasionally I escape to catch a breath
Of fresh air so I won’t suffer a silent sudden death.
Here in the mountains I find solace and relief,
Where rivers and streams rescue me from grief.
The clean air, blue sky, green pastures and fields;
Free and friendly and serve as needed shields.
The pretty flowers and preening birds singing
Praises of peaceful miracles and gifts of living;
They calm my fears, soothe my soul in this shrine,
Lifting my spirit heavenward in awe of the divine.
LV ~ 2017
|...escape to catch a breath of fresh air|
|...in this shrine|
|... calm my fears, soothe my soul|
|... clean air, blue sky and green pastures|
|... rivers and streams rescue me from grief|
|... lifting my spirit heavenward in awe of the divine|
... needed shields and gifts of living
|... in the mountains I find solace and relief|