Green spacious land speckled with yellow poppies outstretched for miles on end.

Flowers dance, the wind its puppeteer, as a bee comes hoping some pollen the flower will lend.  

Butterflys weave in and out of crowds, navigators of flight their path only they themselves may they bend.

Red and white checkers lay upon the soft green meadows a cloud of fluff and lace clothe thee, lady friend.

As boys run about holding kites, and racing little toy boats with a little hand written note to send.

Men sit and chat about the news and weather, while the women set upon the house to tend.

Simple means, simple beings are easy to fend.