i dreamt of an open valley
cradled on either side by
a wood of Oak, and Pine,
and Cedar.

and it was there we had built
our house.
a circular affair, with basement
and half buried,
sodden roof.

there was a barn
and two fields.

the first, a sea of green oats,
whistling and waving
their extolations in gratitude.

the second, for us.
rows of vegetable, and fruit.
would you love these rough hands
if they tilled the earth for our children?

i will never offer you
the world,
or riches,
or lavish ornamentation.
i will not offer them because
i do not want them, myself.
perhaps i am simple man;
but in this dream

i was content

we were happy