Retired counselor, 341 short stories published by FSU. I have 4 sons, love sharing photography, writing, love travel, sunshine, sea & Grace.
The lone, sensitive child becomes a wandering adult
Who feels and sees that which others pass by?
At home in nature
We revel in the bliss, of roaming amidst
To maybe read the sky in a glass top pond,
and hear the flicker of dragonfly wings
To see how the wind creates
an ocean wave of corn or wheat
To lie, in summer grass, and sigh
as a butterfly lands nearby
At one, entranced; given wings
Over there see the nest,
curtained off in the rosy hedge
a patient Mother Thrush; so hushed
A sudden scurry, through fallen leaves,
as chasing squirrels' cascade...
gold and red and yellow displayed
To revel in diamond bright reflections
from a singing stream
To catch the light on butterfly wings
To rise early in the rosy dawn
and hear the urgent alarm call
of the bird's morning song
Let my spirit ever roam
In this wonderous natural home
where all senses are alert, and all tensions gone
Finally, At one
This is my home
This is where I belong.
© 2021 Helen Lewis