3.19.15 The soft shoulder slowly freezing, the wild wind streaming across the land.

Into the drive he pulls, as the sunset nears the horizon, and off I race, smiling, past him.   But he understands.

 

Down to the Eagle Sanctuary, where the broad cold March winds sweep across the open plain, hip up next to the frozen river.

By the farmer's field with the grand tree and the stream, the sun sets a bit more.

 

At the Connecticut, taking care of the rutted walk and the ice and snow covered waters far below, I stand, silent, as our earth orbits, and the sun disappears below the horizon.

 

On the way home, I say hello to the dead end road of more cultivated fields, the soft shoulder slowly freezing, the wild wind streaming across the land.