Sonnet 7

A lifetime hunting for elusive joy
Is riddled by those with material peaks
Proclaiming vices that they think bespeak
Achievement of the goal for which we toil

Cold machinations often they employ
To gain the instant pleasure that they seek
While preying on the trusting of the meek
Unburdened by the bonds that they destroy

But I profess the greatest joys are these:
Traversing trail and smelling nature’s scent
Or operating motorcade to song

With voices in the wind and through the trees
On memories is precious time well-spent
Adventuring with treasured friends along