something comfortable

i slip into something comfortable

well-worn slacks and soft, long-armed

shirt that warms, caresses arthritic

wrists and helps bent fingers write

what my nature-filled acres

in the foothills gifts to my joyous soul

choose not to participate

unaware, we miss the snake slithering

away from under our feet

the cougar peering down

from hillock above our heads

doe naked in the middle of the field

but so still we do not notice

skunk cabbage gives our noses warning

but how many lovely flowers blossom

without our ever seeing them

there is so much more to our world

than we quiet ourselves to realize

let alone become a part of