It Seems Like Not All Do

What’s the need and desire?

What’s the motivating fire?

Why the staring and caring

Of others a glaring?

Why, when the sky is blue

And you hear above you

The chirp and the cheep

Of little ‘uns beaks?

The rustle of leaves

Hearts’ voices of love

From the trees.

Or the slow sigh

Of the sun

As it raises its head

To the morn that’s begun.

Sweet blades of grass

That tickle in mass

And lay blanket of fur

Upon knees.

A flutter of wind

A spatter of rain

The ruffle of dry domain.

Aren’t these the souls of life

The moments appeasing strife?

The highest of spirit

And lowest of pain

Where I wish to forever remain.