Dear sun leaning over the grass, Dearest cattle echoing through the fields, Dear rain sliding down my glass, Dearest sickle that my grandpa wields, It seems you haven't but a care about the world, yet you still go, Go on and on you do, all the big and small things go, Yet I wish I had the stillness of a shoe. I wish I were held tight like a waterman holds the row; I wish that were me over there playing in the snow! How I wish to be like these things, going but going still. But I know I’m quite not ready, and that takes great skill. Dear stone by the riverside, Dearest foliage swaying in the wind, Dear bird who coos and night, Dearest deer who’s quick, I wish I had someone to admire such things with. Will my star come back, or is that path not fit? Dearest things, I can't know, and neither can you. But you aren’t bothered, you don't let things mind you. CREDITS: google for image written by me
