The Wild Calls My Soul Poem by Margaret O Driscoll

Manicured ornate show gardens
To attract visitors, the goal
Flower beds neat and fancy
But the wild calls my soul

From the woods I hear a chiffchaff
Such a special sound and sight
By remote farm outbuildings
I spot a barn owl one night

By their nests in a sand dune
Sand martins swish by overhead
At a quiet reed edged lake
A moorhen, glint of bill red

A gracious gift to the soul
For each adult and child
Ramble off the beaten track
Go to where it's wild