Simple Life goes about the
Duties of the day.

Not even the slightest
Glance towards the giant
Looming over them.

Working under and over the twigs
Scattered above the
Never-ending ocean
Of green grass.
Hiding an underbrush of
Malnourished,
Dead,
Leftovers of time.
The simple life is one with nature.

You have not yet reached the
Dark brown, rich dirt;
But you have passed through the
Sea of grass.

You are in that alcove between
Biotic and abiotic, filled with
Dead twigs and leaves,
That is barely visible to the
Watcher.

Reach out and feel it,
Rough to the touch,
A prickly, poking sensation runs along
The bottom of your
Outreached hand.
You tentatively feel and
Begin to understand
Exactly what this
Patch of grass
Stands for.

Sounds of quiet nature and animals
Going about their
Daily chores,
Recreation, the
Sounds of creation are
Comforting to the
Listener.

Feel that heart beating,
Thumping through you,
It slows down and
Reaches a steady pace,
The steady beat of
Living life in peace.

Awaken to the sound of neighbors around you
Hear the daily business
Of animals, so soft,
Of humans, so harsh.

Humans work through their
Day of roughs and toughs in a
More noisy way then the
Animals with their simple ways.

Does anyone ever stop,
To think and observe, this
Miracle, this
Chaos, this
Perfect order of
Life?