Magic Box

The trees cascade,

Over the rocky face of the mountains,

The lakes are rejuvenated,

By snow fed streams.

The ducks waddle and wade,

In the water,

Under the shade of the blueberry bushes,

That line the edge of the inlet maze.

The bees bumble along happy as can be,

Not ill tempered, nothing can harm me.

From my little box I can go anywhere.

I loved the outdoors as if

It was where I was born

For it’s where I grew up.

Pure bliss was dangling,

My toes and legs in the stream.

As I am released,

On the breath of the wind,

I am washed clean,

In the beauty of it all.

I smile as I take in the smell,

Of a Jeffery pine,

Standing next to me.

As sweet as vanilla.

It’s all I need to set me free.

When I die,

Put me in a little box,

And take my ashes here,

Let me rest in peace,

Free and clean,

Washed by nature,

And the complex beauty,

Of the simple things in life.