On the lofty, grassy hill I stand

Facing toward the eastern dawning light

Slowly rising, lighting the damp land

Silence broken by the fowl of no flight

Silent and still, sheds stir from repose

Moving methodically to the trough

I turn pause observe the red, cheery rose

But slowly I climb to the wooden loft

Counting methodically, the hay sails down

Muzzling through but soon with murmured sound

The brindled and the black with a’slight frown

But here a calming, sincere peace is found

The grand beasts of dependence can create

Connection, which nothing can separate