He’s Never Walked in a Meadow

He wrote simply, that he had never walked in a meadow,

I was saddened for him, for a meadow is a beautiful place,

And I was struck with the peace and beauty of many meadows,

In which I have been blessed to walk, run, sleep, and dream.

I have been a fortunate soul, I have experienced so much beauty,

Though I haven’t always lived in appreciation of that fact.

I have caught snow on my tongue and run in warm spring rains,

I have lain on my back in fields of wild daisies,

And made pictures and adventures of the clouds up above.

I have thrilled as thunder rolled in the sky,

And have seen the night sky lit up by lightning storms grand,

The Atlantic and pacific oceans have lapped at my toes,

And I have skied down majestic mountain slopes.

In the desert I have seen, from out of nothing but dry rock,

A tiny purple flower, pushing through the smallest crack,

Determined to live, (we could learn a lesson from this plant).

I have been fortunate, for sure, so much beauty I have seen,

And I thank my fellow poet for the comment he wrote,

For it served as a reminder, of how much beauty I have seen,

That the words on this page, cannot begin to describe.