A Lesson in Living
[poetic landscape section]
this land from where my heart sprang where my father took his first breath my grandmother her last horizon to horizon I turned from you head wrenched back over my shoulder and I run to you again asking you to find me here somewhere I once knew you this place and I scream to you to break this hurt against your granite stones I lurch my despair off your buttes I march I march I march across your fields I plead as you gently twist my hair in the wind and cradle me in the rolling hills you return to me the rosy cheeks of my youth and lead my feet on trails I once cut over and over and over all the while trees are falling roots torn from the ground birds crashing to earth storms howling and you soak up the tears back to the dirt as the first purple flower of spring pushes through you speak not a word and go on living — Jessie Veeder Scofield 37
