In Front Of Me

In front of me the open way,
The kiss of spring, the joy of play.
The mist upon a lonely loch,
Are spirits waking from their sleep.
On yonder green a shepherd's flock
Of wooly, white, and wobbly sheep.

In front of me the open sky,
The psalm of life, the peace to die.
I am content to breathe this air,
And gather Heather as I go.
To not know why and just not care
Is, perhaps, a knowing, though.