I Call It Home

I Call It Home

By Garnett Ann Schultz

 

Perhaps you'd call it very plain

This farmhouse quaint and old,

So gently tucked 'midst country hills

And kissed by sunshine gold,

The country lane that reaches far

Around each crook and bend,

And then the magic sky of blue

With cotton clouds to lend.

 

You mightn't notice all the trees

Or redbirds as they call,

Or fail to see the colors bright

That bless the gorgeous fall,

The small white squirrel I call my own

Who visits day by day,

To climb the trees and find the nuts

While frolicking in play.

 

I'm sure you wouldn't call it great

With lawn on every side,

Nor would you find the memories

All fondly tucked inside,

And yet I ever shall return

However far I roam

Although you'd only see a house

I'm proud-I call it home.