Paradise

The green rises with the mist rolling off the foothills of the valley.
This is home, my Paradise.
Farms are scattered everywhere,
While "downtown" boasts a cafe, a post office, a church.
Mostly, home is full of people, children, animals, families, nothing else.

Paradise . . . it's often forgotten in this big 'ole world we live in,
But it is always Paradise that gives me something to believe in.
They tell us we're simple, as if to offend.
We thank them for the compliment they so willingly lend.

Each day goes by slowly, graciously.
(They say time is relative, and indeed, it is here.)

I know one day I'll leave this town of mine
For something much bigger, full of the grind--
The grind of the world, its relentless pace--
But I know I will soon return to this place.

This place with its simplicity, the people, my home,
The port of peace from which I launch to roam.
Security,
       Beauty,
           Simplicity,
                    Peace,
I feel it all as the mist rises and disappears to the East.