Realities: A Book of Poems

I see the fields of hay

The full, green trees across the road

The brown house in which I live

I can see the brown chicken coop on the hill

And the hawks soaring in the sky above

I see the big, red barn

Close to the barbed-wire fence

I see the red, metal gate

That separates me from paradise

I can feel the warmth of the hot summer sun

And the blades of grass

Brushing against my legs

I can smell the fresh air of the countryside

And the flowers that bloom

I can smell the freshly potted plants

And the sawdust from the barn

I can smell burning wood on the bonfire

And the freshly cut hay

I can hear the birds chirping in the trees

And the bullfrogs by the pond

I can hear the fire crackling

And the wind blowing through the trees

I can hear the crashing of thunder

And the sound of rain hitting the metal roof

My perfect summer

The one I’ll always cherish