The countryside will always be,
More dear, than city life, to me.
The bleats of playful lambs in spring,
Blend with the song of birds that sing.
Morning sun reflects, in mist and dew,
A sparkling haze, too bright to view.
Yellow meadows, filled with celandines,
Buttercups and dandelions.
In bluebell woods, shy fallow deer,
In woodland glades, sometimes appear.
By day, the badger is unseen;
Curled up at home, asleep, serene.
Along the hedgerow, rabbits play;
Hop about - munch grass all day.
Their long ears alert to any sound;
Aware of everything around!
Cows grazing in a field nearby,
An aged donkey heaves a sigh.
Pigeons cooing, lovebirds loving,
A barking dog, a farmer sowing.
Nearby a streams, clear, tinkling waters stray.
Through fields of golden corn and hay.
And - as balmy breezes shiver,
Rustling leaves are all aquiver!
And swaying on a blade of corn,
A baby fieldmouse, not long born;
Nibbles at the ears of wheat,
Hanging on by tail and feet.
******
With space to breathe
- tranquility -
The concrete jungles not for me!
Copyright john tucker
1 comment:
Life in the Concrete Jungle ain't what it's cut out to be. It is what I call living in a world of discontentment. The way you describe the countryside sounds like a world of contentment. Tell me; how do I get there I'm tired of discontentment. LOL, BDC
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