In A Bustle That We Haste Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Like a brisk fresh brook,
Through a forest flows...
Unstoppable and clear,
When one is near it they can hear.

And taking hikes in the woods,
Does a city dweller good...
Without the handicap of bricks,
To sit with sentiments lamented.

So much can be advantaged,
If we managed to rid limits.
And giving Mother Nature more,
Than just a few minutes.

So much of life is wasted,
In a bustle that we haste.
As if there is a purpose in a rush anticipated,
Everyday.

So much can be advantaged,
If we managed to rid limits.
And giving Mother Nature more,
Than just a few minutes.

So much of life is wasted,
In a bustle that we haste.
As if there is a purpose in a rush anticipated,
Everyday.

Taking hikes in the woods,
Does a city dweller good...
Without the handicap of bricks,
To sit with sentiments lamented.

Like a brisk fresh brook,
Through a forest flows...
Unstoppable and clear,
When one is near it they can hear.
Don't delay.