Alone And Lonliness Poem by shimon weinroth

standing in the field of fresh cut Alfalfa
bleeding blades, of sweet and sour
their dirge, a song of fragrance,
I find myself in this midst, gazing
at horizons, smiling at the joys of creation,
white clouds sailing, birds winging, bees buzzing

grasses fallen at my feet, nature's portrait
hanging in my mind, embracing and enduring
alas too often overwhelmed by war and despair
a lonliness creeps in, I escape to sublime memories
far from the madding crowd,
and yet anxiety lingers on