Well yes, I’ve always been a Country boy; didn't
need to ponder where I had been born incepts a
sense of open space - that atmosphere, graphic
where I saw reality as open air - midst trees with
swards of grass; never felt this vastness was an
empty place of loneliness by choice, as if it thus
construed a separate voice burgeoning an aged
rapport in faking doubtful accolades that frailed
Out here you fail to be alone - there is no room
for it in any latent sense that rests at ease when
Nature cheers a warm embrace; you’re freed of
voices blaring warnings they are there - needn’t
care to question this for subtlety, or ponder any
meanings bared with fractious teeth a-bask
Our fauna ask no boons except awareness - it's
common-sense, invents the task invested with a
better rent-reward than being stressed, afraid or
wary there’s a motive in such friendliness; being
here collects that bonus free, so yes - a Country
boy who’s glee reflects his joy of home again
© 19 August 2015, I. D. Carswell
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