Whispers on the western wind
Tell me tales of a land
Filled with scrub and blue northers
How you found three tarantulas
And a blunt nosed bull snake
Under the wood pile
That when you showered
It smelled of feedlots
As the dust washed away
With the days sweat
You sleep in a small room
Waiting for the autumn sun to rise
And working till it sets
Over that flat horizon
Your eyes seeing a different landscape
Rising to high desert dawn
And resting under vast starry skies
Listening to the western wind
I hear the sound of your voice
My landscape has changed too
Now an open empty expanse
Of lavender sheets
Stretching to the Ozark blue sky
Into tops of green cedar trees
North wind whispering of autumn
Come home
To the landscape of our life
Where the familiar hills and valleys
Long for your touch
The Course of Our Seasons 
I simply love this one, Kathleen – whole-heartedly… I’m such a sucker for landscape pieces and when you manage to combine both inner and outer landscapes with such skill – well it’s perfection 🙂
Hey, Sarah, thanks. Bob has been out of town A LOT this past month – makes me grumpy 🙂 so haven’t been writing much – need to get back to it. So happy you liked this – have a good week! K