In the hush of dawn, when mist clings low,
Rusty walks where the soft grasses grow.
The cows nod gently, dew on their backs,
And sunlight spills gold along the winding tracks.
He whispers to the wind, “Blow where I please,”
And, for a heartbeat, the world bends with ease.
A fallen leaf twirls, a bird arcs high,
Even the clouds seem to linger in the sky.
Yet debts like shadows creep behind each smile,
And the worker mutters, “This work’s not worth my while.”
Rusty sighs, not bitter, not lost in despair,
For he carries the quiet magic of care.
He dips his pen in morning’s first light,
Writes victories small, but perfectly bright:
“A cow fed today, the bucket full,
A laugh from the worker, brief but beautiful.”
Destiny chuckles from a hidden hill,
But Rusty feels a warmth that cannot be still.
For he knows, though storms may roar and bite,
Even small joys are stars in the night.
Rusty treads on, heart steady, slow,
Learning what the patient heart will always know:
Life’s true treasures are tender, unseen,
Found in the spaces where love walks between.
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