You’ll find a turtle walking slow,
or in the sea prepared to go
a thousand miles before its old.
It migrates without being told.

You’ll find deer mostly in the deep,
and every one knows when to sleep
and when to stay awake to feed.
They do the things they know they need.

You’ll find a tree that buds in spring,
and every year it leaves a ring
inside a ring. It also knows
to lose its leaves before it snows.

And grasses grow in rocks and chert,
and roots go dormant when the dirt
becomes too cold for them to swell
and pull cool water from a well.

And rocks will weather when they thaw,
and shatter when the weather’s raw,
and leave behind the smallest grains
to nourish all things when it rains.

.
*I’ve not the time nor moments free
to flail about in wayward flow
Or dance the streets in cobbled glee  
with steps that I no longer know

To walk among the falling leaves
in colors painted autumn past
or sail about the seven seas
from ports o’ call yon ships are cast

Traverse a mountain born of stone
along a pathway’s winding spill
of jagged berth in footprint shown  
I’ve not the strength, nor I the will

To paint a fence of acres far
where cattle graze on sunny fields
or stare upon an evening star
enchanted by the light it yields

For every minute I can find
is spent in endless thoughts of you
To swirl about my focused mind
and every other point of view

To use the ink within my pen
and write the words I’m thinking of
In fine poetic verse I send
my promised and undying love  

So please excuse this horrid mess
as others chose to bother me  
They do not hear what I profess
I’ve not the time nor moments free