Senses

Soft rolling hillsides
Of so many colors.
Looks like a patchwork quilt.
The air so fresh,
With the soft breeze blowing,
I smell, feeling sense of guilt.

Listening so intently,
To the stillness.
Peace and quiet is found.
Blueberries in bushes,
Firm to the touch,
As I sit on the ground.

A basket for gathering,
I place by my side.
Two berries for home, one for me.
The beauty surrounds me.
My chest fills with pride.
Of what I call Home, My Country.

© Bonnita Gallant January 2000

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