Muddy Boots, Mirrored Lakes
A vineyard is just a fancy word for grape farm.
The grass is green.
The leaves are yellow.
The rain has fallen.
The turkeys are perched high on fence posts like guardians.
It’s a good day for hiking.
Just south of the roaring highway.
Strolling softly as birds join in joyful conversations.
I hurry not as the trucks do.
I’ve got nowhere and no one to be.
Here among the hills, I am free.
Watch a video of this poem by clicking here.
Hi! Enjoying what you’re reading? Please consider buying a book, or using the donation button on the sidebar. Poets aren’t always compensated for our performances and efforts, and doing so would help out greatly and ensure this website stays around for years to come.
All of my gigs have been cancelled until further notice. Please stay safe everyone. If you would like to support me at this time, please consider buying one of my books from your favorite online retailer.