Beneath this canopy
of elderly trees,
some as old as a century,
a solitary hermitage.
A simple life of no worldly strife
save lack of water and nutrients.

No television, no social media
to pollute the mind.
No barbed wire, only fences
easily climbed,
so goats can meet and greet,
and search for treats.

We practice a most curious creed,
the word ‘you’ serves no need.
Where dogs, goats and humans infused
into a faith that’s well confused.

The nonstop Celtic music makes a sound,
where old poetic textbooks can be found.
On homemade shelves of natural pine,
Funk & Wagnals classics stand in line;
to calm their contemplative minds,
left unpainted and unrefined.

Yesterday’s debate with MayBelle
on what to do
with all this knowledge
led both of us to despair
until
baby goats danced a tune
to tomorrow’s music.