I will build my house in the corner field,
And the woodline will be my border.
To my axe and hammer the trees will yield
As I put logs and planks in order.
I will build my chimney with the stones
That I dig up from the earth.
I will stack them high with grunts and groans,
And lay them side by side for my hearth.
I will till the ground and plant the seeds
That are tomatoes, beans and corn.
I will fish from the pond where smallmouth feed
And pick fresh berries in the morn.
I will count the stars in the summer sky
And store wood for future burning.
I will watch in wonder as deer stroll by,
And take heed of the leaves’ soft turning.
I will gather in the autumn grains
That will see me through ‘til spring.
I will huddle behind my frosted panes
And wait for robins again to sing.
Each night I’ll pray before taking rest
And give thanks for all of my labor,
For my reward is my request –
To have God as my closest neighbor.
Copyright © Bruce Schuhart | Year Posted 2012
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