"Rural Roots"   [Reflections on Chris Orwig's Book Visual Poetry - Chapter 3:8 ] (Matt 18:1-4; 10:16 )

Naïve and native – root’s the same,
Like country boy – to city came;
A boy removed from farm they say
Still carries farm ’till dying day.

I heard a woman talk of farm
She grew up on – showed no alarm,
Awareness, or concern, that he
Could see in “farm” she was naïve.

But he could not appreciate,
Naïve she was – in that she’d make
Assessments of his urban ways,
Upon her native wisdom based –

And let him in (or not) in end;
She’d see through him and comprehend
Sophisticated house and car
Are just a part of who we are.

If she were to pick camera up,
“Naïve” would be her work – and rough
Compared to his so polished fare,
Without her native wisdom there.

So get naïve in photo-ways,
In native-wisdom spend your days;
See fresh as morning dew within
Your town or city – just begin –

To take a step or two each day
From house or car – begin to play
With life like child you were one time –
Still are – and thus you’ll make out fine.

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