Fred Baus Books and Poems
I hear the chirping of the birds,
The buzzing of the bees,
The mooing of the cows in herds,
The rustling of the trees.
There is a path that's near my house.
It crosses hills and streams.
I go there in the bright sunshine
And often in my dreams.
We sometimes picnic on the path
And find some picnic shade.
We sit at picnic tables
And drink picnic lemonade.
There are so many paths. I know
They all have much to see.
I hope you follow pathways, and
Enjoy them just like me.
The many paths I travel on
Take me to happy places.
I go with friends or family -
We all have happy faces.
Some paths are dirt or straw or brick.
Some paths are made of stone.
They all have tricky steps to take -
I never go alone.
I like to follow paths through fields
Where farmers plant their oats,
To walk past fences, barns -- and lakes
With wood canoes and boats.
I like to see the flowers and trees
And bushes growing there --
To see the rocks and hills and streams
And grasses everywhere.