The Poetry of My Life

Getting home late to my little mountain home,

The barn is soon cleaned and the horses fed,

Then I fill the water tubs and repair the fence,

Pat the horse’s velvet noses and kiss a few.

Out and about are the sounds, sights and smells,

Of people involved in the living of life,

The folks right next door are just moving in,

Their first little house with their own little girl.

As I walk to the tiny town post office,

The sound of Toby Keith and “I Shoulda Been A Cowboy”,

While the man of the house welds and cuts,

Making repairs on his work trailer.

And a mother walks with her baby on her shoulder,

Settling her down for today she got her shots.

Her two-year-old son close by,

Gathers pebbles excited by each and every one.

Breathing deeply I take in the scents,

Of spring flowers beginning to bloom,

A wood fire built to warm a chilly night,

And another’s freshly mown grass.

And here I am surrounded by the music of life,

The work and the living, soft as the dusk,

And I am at peace on my little street, in my little town,

Basking in the poetry of life.