My Nature

I sometimes think it might be nice
To get back in the race
And walk the ways of Paradise
Beside the fields of Grace.

I’d hear the birds’ triumphant song
And watch them as they fly
And know that, as I walked along,
I’m one with Earth and sky.

But well I know that’s not for me;
I’m much too shy for that,
And so I sit beneath the tree
Where longing’s always sat.

It isn’t that I don’t fit in;
That’s just the way it’s always been.

Photo by Angel Balashev on Unsplash

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