These are the things I count with quiet joy,
a tally of the measure I am worth-
an aching back with labor to employ
and fingernails near blackened from the earth,
a sheltered patch of land with dreams to sow
to mark the progress of all growing things,
a cup to sip the seasons as they go,
and recognize the beauty each one brings,
to bathe in streams that tumble on their way
lulled by their sweet and timeless lullabies,
an ear to hear the wisdom of each day-
simplicity that grounds me as it flies.
Far from the stricken pace of city life
here I reside, the willing bride of life.
I have to stop, I am surrounded by beauty. And my old heart but rest befoe I return again to live in a little piece of your world.