My cares fall off amongst the cattails and cornrows

The air somehow different here, crisp with a hint of harvest

Whiskey smoother, too, me and Grandpa think

Finally away, though connected to time and place

Memories rush back, as we repeat them anew

My heritage alive with family, friends and pheasants


When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe. – John Muir


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