A Small Piece of the Country and its Barns

A farm near Palatine Church

A Small Piece of the Country

I own a small piece of the country; 

It is hidden beneath this shirt, 

Out of eyesight, unable to seen, 

Not to be found, touched or heard.

It is winter in its somber white suit; 

It is fall in its vibrating colors; 

It is summer with its kiss of warm breezes;

It is spring and all that is new.

I own a small piece of the country; 

It is hidden from view, 

In remembered feelings and words, 

of all the friends I knew.

It is open like a window, 

Letting in the fresh country air; 

It is golden like the morning, 

When the sun warms me there.

It is dew upon the grass, In the morning fresh and new; 

It is the sky, the night of the full harvest moon.

I own a small piece of the country; 

It is hidden in my mind, 

Of the fine folk Who make up the country kind.

It is the farmer harrowing his field; 

It is the preacher holding together his small flock; 

It is the neighbor helping a neighbor; 

It is my friends and their warm hearts.

I own a small piece of the country; 

It is my own special part, 

I own a small piece of the country;

I keep it here within my heart.