My Only War Is With Myself

My only war is with myself I find life quite a battle
In the paddock across the road I envy the red white face cattle
They sit in the sunshine and they chew their cud without a care or worry
Whilst I am full of jumbled thoughts and I'm always in a hurry.

In Nature's leafy woods song birds sing and wildflowers bloom around me
But I do not appreciate the beauty that surround me
True poets and artists feel inspired by such great Natural beauty
To write about and sketch such marvellous things they see it as their duty.

In a hundred years or less from now none will know I had existed
In any book or magazine my name will not be listed
And yet the worries of the world weigh heavily on my shoulder
Like many I have not grown wise I only have grown older.

The grey shrike thrush on wattle tree pipes his notes of December
His song familiar to my ears and so easy to remember
And butterflies with the sun on their wings they look so colourful and pretty
At home in country paddock or park or garden in the city.

I do not believe in this religious stuff like we are all sisters and brothers
My only war is with myself though I do not like some others
The cattle in the paddock as they chew their cud they do look quite contented
And happiness it is a natural thing and by Nature was invented.