Simple Things

© 2016, 2017 by Christopher Clymer Kurtz

Whispering pine trees, chuckling cool streams, harmonies.
Little melodies to catch, from the front porch in the breeze.

Simple things, simple pleasures, too complex to measure, smooth out those ruffled feathers.
Run so fast, when you fall, you fly straight home to a lullaby.

Bread in the toaster, tea on a coaster, like it black, no cream.
Music in the air you breathe, the mystery of steam.

And morning comes, you fly away
It's what you live for ‘til the end of every day.