13 December 2015

Country Boy

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