By Valerie Boisen

City rustle
Another siren gone by
I think of the country
As I look at the sky

Where are the stars
Blinded by street lights
Clock reads twelve AM
I thought it was night

I dream of a place
So distant and still
Where the grass is rich green
And the people are real

I hear chickens cluck
The horses start to run
I shovel dirt in my garden
Under the boiling hot sun

For hours on end
I could stare at the trees
In my own little world
I’ve never felt so free

No noisy neighbor upstairs
Just the country and I
But reality hits
As another police siren goes by