There’s No Place Like Home
I like the sunny, smiling faces
of the flowers in my yard…
the chirping of the crickets
and frosty winter morns.
’Tho stately peaks may rule supreme
small wonders do abound...
buzzing bees—and blooming trees—
and No Feet creeping ’round.
My family’s played a game here
...and sweated bullets there...
Our history’s written in the stones
and echoes in the air.