No rivers run to my doorstep.
I must go out and gather my water and other supplies.
No rivers run to my doorstep.
Seldom as the thought is: 

      “I do not care to labor so much.”

Been times I’ve entertained the fantasy:

Fish leaping from a river and suffering the tarrain to greet fresh berries and the ripest plumbs who’ve picked themselves, then gathered on my plate. 

Still the things we truly desire– want, in someway become need.

The challenge is the choice to try for them.
While maturing, I’ve learned nothing worth having will simply be given to me

My mind is focused, breathe in deep.
My lungs are fast and heavy.
My guts are off to win a war, sparked by my will not to fail.

No rivers run to my door step
I’d enjoy a complaint…
We should put out of our minds actions that only cause delay.

No branches stretch in through my window.
Minks and Blue Birds don’t come plucking the fruits and nuts- gifting them to me.

I must labor for what I require…
An act leaving proof that I deserve what it is I desire.