It holds untold reasons for being.
Turkeys roosting in your trees,
Bears ambling by when least expected,
The gravel on your road echoing its own sound
With every boot-clad step.
You wonder how tall your trees are,
How many split rail fences each would make.
If it is possible to measure their reach to the sky
Without climbing to your death, would you?
And the birds, oh the birds!
Setting aside the spectacular varieties,
You spend a day watching a dark-eyed junco
Measure the acreage for her nest.
Will she select the perch
And not the fan blade, please.
Or, you can foolishly close your eyes,
Blind your senses.
Just a tree, just a bird, just a bear,
Missing out on the excitement of
Simple sounds,taking off en pleine air.