MY COUNTRY.

I live next door to God
And have no need to call;
He knows where I reside
And always will.
He’s out most days
Anyway, upon the hills of
Yorkshire’s sacred skin,
Watching and waiting
For us to approach
And ask for directions.
Traveling the length
Of this tremendous land
With the rose of
Mary’s love in his
Lapel and a glint
Of pride in his eyes
At his boy’s exploits.
God lives next door to me
And as a good neighbour
Should never expects
Any more of me than I would.
I’m in most days, and am
Grateful for his ability
To find me when
Required.