Circle of Life
When I was a lad growing up in the small village of Wakenda, I would sometimes sit on the back porch and watch the stars move across the night sky. I would listen to the tune of the birds and farm animals calling to me every morning. A choir of a hundred different voices singing their praises to a new day. I spent my days doing exactly what I wanted to do. Now I am retired, and we moved to the hills in the Ozarks of Missouri. I sit on the back porch and watch the stars move across the night sky. I listen to the tune of the birds and farm animals calling to me every morning. A choir of a hundred different voices singing their praises to a new day. I spend my days doing exactly what I want to do. Why didn’t I leave well enough alone?
Why did I chase life
through so many wasted years—
just to get back home
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