What I would give to be in Wyoming.

Where mountains hug the sky

and the wind whispers stories of yesterday.

Where lakes mirror dusty pine trees

and Father Sun is close enough to burn sunflowers

into the countryside.

I long to see the stars that embed

themselves into your heart.

To hear hawks crying and the coyotes whooping.

To feel the simple beauty that is in and all

around.

I wish to gallop through the open plains of sage

brush and chase grazing antelope.

I want to find an abandoned cabin with treasures

from Hell's Angels.

There are rivers and streams of consciousness that flow through

the valleys and rest in the bed of forgotten mysteries.

The hum of Tree

grunt of Bison

stride of Bear

quake of Mother Earth

and smoke from Grandfather Fire.

Whether I lay neath an aspen tree

at midday with my journal

or ride at break of dawn

atop my horse shadow,

or wander through a midnight

forest in love.

Wyoming will always be my home.