In tomorrow’s golden breeze. Tapping out country rhythms on hollow logs. Pestering sound of every bug flying around and the deep chimes or rhyming frogs.

And as I drop a flattened rock into the pond, berboop, kerplunck every noise is swallowed up. Even the crow refuses to whisper loudly as I finished my drink in the bottom of the cup

My fire is hot with potatoes in some foil. Top with peppercorn, my patience born and bubbling up with oil. The world looks on as the pan begins to redden.

Siss as the flames leap pan cast into the short grass. I sit back and rub this new belly thinking of some honey or some jelly to put on this last biscuit.

Then the forest cries out with passion, casting cares and fear of man to the hills up there beside me. Birds and dogs and whistling buzzards register there upset

My boots off I review this grand world God has given and this short and wonderful life He gave me for the living. Bothered by nothing I sit back and howl like lost dog in the bayou.

What wondrous stars remind me of this prison and worlds ten thousands parsecs from our sun. All of this and the wonder of imagination I think to myself of the things that make up wealth and see within a very rich man.

Tall trees creaking madly in the wind-song. Spoken words we never thought to say. Spending centuries looking down the creek rolling bye never wondering why without smile or frown.

What value to sitting rock, grass blades or handfuls of sand. Passing by them I ignore nothing that I would have taken for granted before the reach of love upon my heart.

Awoken me to fancy forever now and take my bow as extra in this casting. Character to practice my craft, whether smart or too daft I am glad I sang and I laughed, And Cried.