Thursday, August 20, 2015

The Vacationist



Out from the city’s smoke and grime,
Out from the seven story climb,
Out from the office, dark and small,
Out from the crowded human stall,
Out from the city’s stress and strain,
Out to the woods and fields of grain,
Out where the wood nymphs frisk and play,
He collars his grip and goes today.

A smile on his face six inches wide,
A heart all ready to burst inside;
A vision of rest before his eye,
A laugh as he bids the town good bye.
A dream of peace, and a sight of fish,
That is his dearest, fondest wish;
The night comes on and he goes to bed,
And the world and all beneath his head.

              (One Week Later)

The weather’s been dry and the fields are brown,
The other boarders have gone to town;
The days are too hot, and the fish won’t bite,
Mosquitoes and hoot-owls disturb his night.
He’s lonesome and weary, and sick of it all,
And longs to get back to his little box stall,
The smoke of the city, the sounds that rise
To most sojourners are paradise.



Aug. 20, ‘09
Sat.




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