
I know where the grass grows first, fresh and tender where raindrops linger above the road and creek below. I can feel wild spirits talk, dewless tracks where they walk, stepping lightly to lay beside me and my calf. From here we shed the claustrophobe of fence and gate, far away from the human race.
Beautiful photo and poem pair. I’m so glad you are getting rain finally.
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Thanks, Meg. Off to a slow, dry start, we have a little hope with another 1/4 inch last night. Still well-below our average, our world is greening and the cattle are up on the ridges.
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That feeling of freedom is exactly why I love to go to Wyoming every summer.
janet
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Yes, Janet, the luxury of space and distance not all people know.
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It’s what I crave, even though we live in suburbia.
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