In my youth, I liked nothing better than to roam through the woods and fields on the outskirts of town.
And on Sunday evenings, I'd many a time skip out of church to go sit behind old man Carlson's general store,
And just listen to the peepers or an owl.
This got me in a heap of trouble lots of times.
You never could understand. Could You?
How someone could feel closer to God sitting behind and old general store observing the wonders of His almighty hand, than sitting in a crowded church, listening to Reverend Wiley damn us to eternal Hell.
Anyhow, I guess I got the last laugh.
You see, I can lie here under this old oak and worship God anytime I choose.
You see, I'm used to using a tree for an altar.
About the Creator
Fred Bobbitt
I am a rural American poet. I find inspiration in the simple things which comprise a country lifestyle.
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