Wondering

I wonder sometimes, in the fading light
On a stream of moving water, as a brook trout bites
Why I was born in a place and time
Where leisure is possible and I'm not blind

The earth is quite large and varies throughout
Many people have little and have not met a trout
Where only survival is given their time
Too worried and scared to know a stream so sublime

Sometimes I feel guilty, sometimes its remorse
But it serves very little--I know that of course
At the end of the day, I choose to give thanks
To the Maker of all--a time and place--yes, thanks