Remembering Innocence and Black Berries

Pass the pasture
of four legged wool
beyond the knoll
and to the hill
here is where I sat
as still as a frighten fawn
the fragrance of sweet grass
and black berries
filled the air
remembering my
grand fathers words
“hard times will come”
“experience you will gain”
my nostrils widen
taking in the fragrance
I shall not burden myself
with these boulders
instead my eye and mind
will transcend pass
this physical beauty