When walking in a field,
Admiring the weedy ground,
My knees did yield,
To a daisy found.
Engulfed in my fingers,
As if growing there,
Its freshness lingers,
In the scented air.
Walking in a field,
Of bountiful, buzzing bees,
I watch them yield,
To the nectar in daisies.
Walking in a field,
I spot a field mouse,
I see the ground did yield,
So he could build a house.
Walking in a field,
A bird flies to a tree,
The branch did yield,
To his feathered body.
Walking in a field,
Weedy carpet of green,
Gladly did it yield,
So harmony could be seen.
Walking in a field,
Acts as a cure.
We all must yield,
And learn from nature.
Walking in a field,
An experience so pure,
I would gladly yield,
To the harmony of nature.
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