Monkey’s Uncle

In Restless Grove, the fickle thicket, we
The restless grovelets dwelt, with many turn and rove
And wandering to gaze upon the sea.
We never felt at home in Restless Grove.
The mild winters did not freeze us, spring
Contentment killed, fair summer blasted not,
Fall launched no fury, only mellowing.
The seasons circled, banding in our lot.
Enough, but not in excess, so we wore
Away, until we left the Restless Grove
To sail our ship in search of better shore;
Myriad lands we’ve set and sailed for want of better trove.
We’re lost and mapless now, yet hope to learn
Someday the way to Restless Grove return.

-Not content, or happy, yet we find,
That happiness is just a state of mind.

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