A country lane

Up the lane where the hedgerows grow
 the flowers are small and white and yellow
Where the birds nest in thickets
    the air is crisp and cool and mellow

My old bicycle whisks me by
 Where sheep huddle in fields
  and stone walls solidly lie
Down the lane where the hedgerows grow

Under the bridge and through the fjord
 and towards mountains yonder
Over the hill, where the flowers are white and yellow
 and towards adventure and wonder

The moment is now and happiness is irrelevant
At one with nature, removed from inner-self
Like the birds that nest in thickets
Free and frivolous and heartfelt

My lungs fill with air that is cool and crisp
My soul feels elated and serene
and I laugh out loud
as I sing along my country lane