When life gets too much
rushing here and then rushing there
I can think of going back to that place.
When the traffic is at a standstill
beeps and horns, yelling –
where busy feet scuffle and scrape the sidewalk
the cacophony is deafening.
The rise of pungent food odours
mingle with the death knell
of tobacco smoke, blue and hazy, rising , whirling to the heavens.
A huddled figure, crumpled in the shadows
the world has gone and left behind.
A grimy palm, held out in despair –
a single utterance, all guttural,
‘buddy can you spare a dime?’
Yet people scurry by oblivious,
a stampede to get home in time
to start another day on the morrow.
And when all this has played out –
I can go back to that place of serenity
where peace and silence fills every space
where emerald green grass stretches out beyond the horizon
and blue skies press down to welcome me
where the rhythm of nature progresses on undisturbed
and where the darkness of nightfall holds no menace
Ah, country living – that’s the place for me!
Thanks for stopping by!
Until next time, Sharon