Wilderness Living

On God’s Green Earth I must confess
I much prefer the wilderness.
Cities, structured, hustling-bustling,
Dampen deep devotional rustlings.

Resound of pebble striking stream
Would disappear in cities’ screams,
Subtly shifting shadows cast
Escape the urban blare and blast.

Then there are those, though corporate bound,
Crammed and jammed in crowded aisles,
Who yet are tuned to sweeter sound
That sifts through stunted, stifling styles.

Attention theirs is caught and held,
Tendered to a higher power,
Municipalities do their best
But fail all folk in final hour.

So whether jet or Walden Pond,
When you’re immersed in worried ways,
Poseidon call bids you respond,
Kneeling, join the tide that prays.

Waters soon will lap your feet
And winds will bear your wingless form,
Despair no more, the gilded street
In deepest wilderness is born.