I sit here on the writer’s perch,

Eyes fixed at the wooded edge.

There a vigorous brook flows by

To quench a thirsty sedge.

The scene is but a poem

Deftly drafted from above,

With masterful strokes of genius,

Wrought with a Godly glove.

That it be my good fortune

To behold this inspired scene,

Hewn in perfect detail

In all the shades of green.

That I might humbly muster

Proper thanks for what I see.

To nurse the view before me

And guard its majesty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

— Pete Tucker

December 2019