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
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.