Gods Country

“Ah, You are from God’s country.”

He said in his ‘no hurry for anything’ Southern drawl.

His words made me ponder as I had been marveling,

In the beauty of the East so alive and so green.

“Its all Gods county,” I said with a smile,

Then realized how sad it can be,

That we spend every day in a place we call home,

But allow it to become just commonplace,

When indeed from the cold crashing waves,

Of the Atlantic upon the rocky coast of Maine,

To the soft Pacific rolling onto a beach in California

And every tree, rock and prairie and mountain in-between,

It is truly, all Gods country.