Wednesday, July 17, 2013

vast and rolling

I am in the window seat of the small plane
that is in descent
to the eastern part of the state
I still call  home.
As I peer through the
smudgy clouded scratched glass,
I marvel
at how my body
tunes in
with the
of this place.

so much room
to breathe.
so much land
measured in quartered fields
and tiny rivers
forming oxbows
and straight roads
that roll out forever...
a patchwork from the sky.

I know this rolling blue sky.
I know this green grass and yellow-bright fields of canola
resting next to green fields of potatoes or sugar beets or
some kind of grain, it doesn't matter.
I know this wind, hot and dryly humid.

But the best thing is,
this vast and rolling place
knows me.
We connect....
my ancient childhood
is renewed in good and solid ways.


  1. Take me home, country roads, to the place I belong.... Yes, I understand, but my country is not rolling green, but sandy and flat desert like except for scribbly kind of mallee gum trees.

    1. I hope to visit your country, someday, Wendy!

  2. that's a great feeling isn't it??
    these days i'm surrounded by green fields of corn, and soybeans...
    and the hot, hot sunshine of july.