freedom and quietude

just be still


The fun of roaming free

is endless, hard to exhaust. When tired

I sit on a mossy bank, unaware of the cold sun falling

in my love for the cool of the breeze in the pines. Deer descend

to drink of the valley streams; monkeys arrive to pick of

the mountain fruits. What I originally valued were

freedom and quietude; why should

I require that people

know of me?