There's a place
I love to wander
through trees to green grass yonder.
There I'll pluck some fresh flowers
enjoy the scents
of wild powers.
I sit a while in sweet repose;
forget about poems or prose.
The blue sky will be my plateau
and green green grass, a pillow.
I will drink nectar of morrow,
while humming tunes of long
ago.
I hope buds of understanding grow
and lifes' tempest come slow.
I'll learn the language of
birds
and hope to captivate with words.
Let me wander far from chaos;
into the stream of peace
I cross.
