The quiet beauty of a farm is not the glamor and glitz of a town, city, metropolis
Still, there is a bright glitter in the green growth of weeds and the
Quick flutters of wings and feathers.
To be able to actually see the enchantment
A human must be like a creeping shadow
Instead of blending into the raucous noise of a cities roar
Care must be taken to experience the unusual, instead of flinging oneself into the
Shimmering excitement of towns
The gold is lifted to our eyes on gentle breezes
As the shadows fall sharp upon the furrowed land.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,