On The Patio
Just swatting flies and drinking lemonade,old rocking chair squeaking gently in the shade. Virginia sun aburning in the sky, I sit and watch my feathered friends go by. The garden, waiting for a gentle hand to gather riches from its fertile land lies quiet and peaceful, this I understand. by Carl W. Ingalls |
CampfireI sit by my campfire with pipe aglow recalling the days of long ago and dreams of childhood cross my mind, the things I'd do if I had the time. But every dream and every plan were forgotten when I became a man, except my most important wish that there be time to hunt and fish. I still hold fast to my boyhood love of the earth below and the sky above, of camping out beneath the trees and listening to the evening breeze. So here I sit, fire burning low it must be time for me to go to rest this gray and aging head upon the comfort of my bed. by Carl W. Ingalls |