A little bit of land is all I ask,
Just a small place I can call my own,
Where I can put down roots so deep,
so deep
Great-grandchildren still
will call it home.
Is it so much to ask?
A lane of trees
bringing birdsong and colored leaves,
a grape arbor, the roses beyond,
sweet lilacs holding in their arms
the lawn.
Tulips and yellow daffodils
spattered up and down the cellar hill.
Sweet gurgling brook, fresh and cool,
the brush beyond
sheltering grouse and sage,
and shy, sweet deer.
A little valley, with a cabin home,
a bit of garden I can call my own.
I would not bruise the land
or tear it apart,
but keep it blooming
with a happy, beating heart.
A little bit of land to call my own,
within its small confines,
a loving home,
a fertile sod,
that needs a gentle hand
and God.
By Jennie Klasna, Montana on page 33 in the Oct/Nov 2011 Issue of Mary Janes Farm
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