The Life of Jack Robinson
The Life and Works from Jack
Dirt Roads
I received an E-mail about dirt roads.
It got me to thinking about the days of frogs and toads.
On the farm, when there were no more chores to do.
One might think methods of entertainment would be few.
At the end of those dirt roads was home.
Nearby were streams, fields and ponds, so why roam.
In the fields were many things waiting for discovery.
If you found a bumble bee nest, there was time for recovery.
A young person could spend hours in a stream or pond.
Perhaps find a creature, with which one could bond.
Maybe go for a swim with a friend or brother.
When one game tired there was always another.
Walking or playing on the grass was no worry.
Until time for evening chores, there was no hurry.
The sky seemed a deeper blue; what a beautiful site.
Oh! To try to count the stars on cloudless night.
There were no tall buildings or lights to block the view.
No noises that city dwellers become accustomed to.
Maybe a coyote howl, or frogs and crickets chirping aloud.
Yes it was home and made one feel mighty proud.
Rewritten By D. Jack Robinson. 7-31-08
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