poem

The sun was out, it was warm,
and the wind was alive-
pushing long stalks of corn
eastward toward the river.
I remember the smell,
and the sight of the dust following
my footsteps; having created a small
amount of life in my wake.
I smiled as I reached the riverbank.
I smiled as I sat on a large rock,
and I smiled as I opened my thoughts.

-M. Taggart

12 thoughts on “poem

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