Rustle Mt Toes . . .


Nothing so pure as a wild field aglow
It's there with the mist and a rustling toe.
Up to my elbows Earth's mystery deep
Running unguided need not a street.
I smell them I see them I hear as they speak
People are wrong this Earth is not meek.
Whatever the land may it be filled with tears
Man's hard cruel hand harsh through the years.
Plant me some flowers the wilder the best
Then dreams come true they've not let me down yet.
When the need strikes plant a garden to grow
Burst forth without man not by till or by hoe.
Let it grow wild come apart at the seams
Ever to thrive from just some birds and some bees.

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