The View From Our Land

WE purchased a nice old house in the hills,
Where at night, now, we hear the whippoorwills
And the termites gnawing the few good sills.

We were unaware what a country place meant,
Till we beheld from our upstairs easement
The brook that ran babbling into the basement.

No season or day here is twice the same,
And the shy, small animals grow so tame
That we call the rats and the mice by name.

By our bed, whenever the lost, wind wails,
The rain tinkles gaily in crocks and pails,
And the lights wink out as the power fails.

When the morning breaks, along with the plumbing,
We step out to watch the woodpecker drumming
And flush a new covey of house guests coming.

So life on the land moves serenely on,
With the wild deer cropping the crops at dawn
And the well and the bankbook overdrawn.