07 June 2011

Berkshire Hills

The Rolling Hills
Of paradise
Is where I live

The sounds of birds,
That could be black, red, orange, yellow, and blue
Warms my spirit as they feed on our bird feeder

Trees that now have green leaves in the summer
Have orange, yellow, and green leaves in the fall
Having no leaves in winter,
The burst of green leaves again rejuvenates our souls in the spring

The air,
Vast and always smelling fresh
Hydrates this green land,
The birds, the grass, and the trees
Shaping the place I call home