Barefoot and dirt-clod
I tip-toe across the yard
Avoiding mounds of stickers
Sharp rocks and weeds
The sky is full
Satin filled milk fluff
Moonshine
Full on me
Our tangerine trees
Rustle with low-lying
Bullfrogs
Ribbit, ribbit
A symphony of crickets sings
High pitched Beetle mania
I hear a distant “moo” from the cows
A latent “who” from the owls in the barn
The statuesque wind chimes
Is playing a cacophony of wind song
This life here engulfs me in it’s pure and rare beauty
I am one with the country, home again
