Memory


Early morning, miss the sounds of chickens waking, cows bumping up against stanchions, waiting to be milked.  Miss the smell of hay dust filtering down through the haymow floor.  Remember sitting in the loft door, looking out over the farm, hills, fields, gullies.  Miss the real country.  Time to go find it again.

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Tilly Evan Jones

“I want to think again of dangerous and noble things. I want to be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable and beautiful and afraid of nothing as though I had wings.” ~Mary Oliver