4 of 87

Write now Article Tools

Walking in the country side.
Mountains a perfect back drop,
for rows of corn, two feet wide.
Hearing crickets squeak, and watching them hop.

I smell the sweet smell of honeysuckle,
and taste the fresh air on my tongue.
Hearing faint laughter and a chuckle,
from the old and young.

As the wind carries the sounds
I make my rounds.
Along the side of an old road,
off in the distance I hear croakings of a toad.

A creek near by or maybe a giggling brook,
I wonder if it would hide, were I to chance take a look.
Feel the contentment of beauty surround me,
as I sing praises for being free.

Free, to live and enjoy the air,
to see the birds and welcome them here.
To watch a random leave fall,
and rejoice in the wonder of it all.

To stand with my feet planted on the ground,
and be happy in the comfort I've found.
In the simple things that make life that much more,
then just a journey to reach the dreams and hopes we reach for.

Happy in the fact that we are blessed to be living,
in a world where Nature's so giving.

Learn more about this author, April Self.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Fresh air?
We want to hear your view. Write now!