April 06^th, 2021

Thatch on rafters, I live in the wilds.
Carts and horses that pass here are few.
The grove is quiet, a place birds flock:
The creek is deep, so fish wait there.
There are wild fruits the boy and I can pick,
Hard rocky fields the wife and I will hoe.
And in the house, what else?
Just a single shelf of books.