For to be called a poet I am not good enough br And though my rhymes may seem slipshod and simple and rough br I will keep on penning for as long as I can br Since writing does make me a happier man. br br I cannot understand those who talk of writers drought br Since in life and Nature so many things to write about br And there's far more to Nature and life than the birds and the bees br Or the sound that the freshening wind makes in the trees. br br From Nature and life we learn new things each day br And you never stop learning though the years leave you gray br And the more that we learn the more our realization grow br That so little of people, life and Nature we know. br br I used to dream I might be a minor poet br But what matter who is or is not worthy of note br Since there is a last day and last night for us all br To the scythe of the reaper we eventually must fall. br br I'm an ageing poetaster since facts never lie br But I'll keep on penning 'til the day I die br And though I'm not one of those who mature like good wine br What you think of me is your business not mine.