Poem 2

These four walls
Are not square.
They melt and mold
Into a rolling field
Of green grass,
Sprinkled with
Yellow flowers.
A grand meadow
That goes forever.
I reach out trying
To take it all in
And vainly accept
My humility in
All its grandness.
Running in all directions,
I feel euphoric,
Even disoriented,
By the power of
Mother Earth.
Looking out
I am pleased and
Peaceful with
The symmetry
I share with
This moment...