Saturday, January 4, 2014

Sonnet # 6: On passing by a farm

The simple rural life seems so appealing:
there's a sameness and a structure to the day --
the rituals and routines must be so healing,
letting out the sheep and bringing in the hay...

There's no rush to completion, just a rhythm,
a time and place for each appointed task,
attunement to the seasons is a given,
the future not that different from the past.

I imagine there's a feeling of affection --
for the animals, the hillside and the heather,
a deeply rooted sense of connection
with the earth, with the air, and with the weather.

We gaze upon the farm, and then drive on
the vision lingers, softens, and then it's -- gone.

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