Saturday, November 24, 2012

I Am Not Of The Poetic Kind

I am not of the poetic kind that is how it seems to be
In notepaper i only write the rhymes that come to me
And often in my rhymes of Nature the praises i do sing
The glory of her creative powers in every living thing
She is the World's greatest teacher to me anyway
From Nature i am learning new lessons every day
I am one who loves the quiet place far from the noisy street
Off of the roadway to the mountains where the creek and river meet
Some tell me in my thinking i have got it all wrong
When i say we are of Nature and to her we do belong
Far from their way of thinking in my way i have grown
But then any two never look at things in the one way and to each their own
Though he lives in the mountain parkland to the big town not anywhere near
The pleasant fluting of the gray shrike thrush in fancy i do hear.

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