How Lucky Are We
The sunshine fills the fens with smiles this June morning and this bead maker sits with his mug of tea watching the spring world that so many miss, with fish spawning in the rich beds of green weed that oxygenate the ponds and the most majestic song thrush singing to the new day, how can this bead hermit do anything other than feel lucky.
My world is free to most but lived by few, how lucky am I to see what I see, to hear what I hear and to smell what I smell, no city rush or greed, no envy to what others have, no guilt to what I do, just my flame of fire and nature in my life, a life to which my heart belongs.
While regal cock pheasant struts along the edge of tall green barley and fast swift packs that circle high above let out exciting cries as they feed, my mind wonders to the beads of the day, the bright colours of the summer fair and the fine flowing dress of the gypsy queen, reds, yellows and rich corals all ride my thoughts and silver shimmering over deep purple collar, all sitting on natures backdrop of wild greens, the day filled with colours awaits me and once more I run to my flame with willing to learn.
No comments:
Post a Comment