adventure
The flight to quiet hills,
A haste that is no haste,
The place that ever fills,
The heart with sweeter taste,
When adventure's call is small,
When weary ears subordinated,
Must recoup and so recall
the shire.
Adventures north from sleepy fields,
Drew out a smile upon the sun,
The breeze met with a bed of hair to wield,
Beholding all the trees persuading company in shade,
The river writes a fine riddle:
Bottomless but capped with riverbed,
Winding never truly wound instead,
Penniless but bejeweled on every head,
What fine company in shade and sun,
To march upon the gates of sister spires.
Holiday ambitions converge in rank,
To chart a course through charted lands,
To hang adventure upon forgetting,
To be suprised by what I used to know,
What a strange gift of our failing station:
That a good insight can be sought twice.
Sunny lives on rainy days,
Giggles of a couple waltz by ornate gates,
Common friends at pace in gentle patter,
Off to business of the smiling sort,
In much learning and exploring,
Tribute to the tender humming of the clouds.
Stepping into other worlds,
Takes so many steps!
Up down the stairs, embroiled in boxes,
Filled and tripple checked,
In a puff such great a start!
Well try to find some rest.
Returning home, adventures had,
Oh how the evening is to every day,
A lover at the journey's end,
A warm hearth familiar and its scent,
A bed to fall upon and sleep.