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.