My needs are simple, and my wishes few;
Content within my earthly acred plot,
Green fields in bloom to daily greet my view,
Granaries filled with fruits of labor wrought.
Happiest yet to greet the morning sun
Or lift my voice unto the rising moon;
Sweet joy to rest when daily toil is done,
Asleep in dreams that morning steals too soon.
Dear Mother Earth, you gave to me your best
And I lived surely, cradled in your arms;
For tears of joy and sorrow, both to bless,
The golden flowers of tomorrow’s loam.
To live, to give, to grow—and then to meekly die—
I thank you naught, but with a heartfelt sigh.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.