Poetry

How do I constantly wish to go home
to a place where some green meadows greet me,
where cattle, horses and sheep roam carefree
under the wide heaven’s bluest kind of dome.
 
The fresh country air has an own welcome
where man can still see small signs of his God
and near to Him come, constantly daily trod;
far from the city, to senses I will come
 
daily see His works in the green cornfields
in the many bright flowers that blossom,
peacefully experience crops that yields
to bounty and live totally wholesome,
 
walk daily in patches of some wild flowers
see living effects of the rain showers.