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Dec 2015
Bitter wind blows hard across the plains stretching before me
I feel your love fill this vast space.
Black Angus stand huddled, backs against the blows
the crowded solitude calls out to the lonely barrenness of the landscape,
opening the door to the home of my desire.
I pray for safe return.

I shout in the echoes bouncing
from cracked round river beds,
crystallized frozen facets,
dusting the trail under foot.

White remembrances rush,
of our November home
perfumed in rich aroma.

In the barn, fresh hay floats,
cattle musk and steam hover over
stallions and mares with nutmeg manes.

Over open kitchen fires hang kettles
of cinnamon apple butter simmering
hand-picked orchards harvest.
Our courage, our trust and hard-work
lined on grain polished shelves,
jars of fresh preserves
reflect golden yellow and red corn relish,
crimson and orange jellies and preserves.
We feast on the fruits of our labor
savored in deep abiding love.

Low drive through rain and sleet
the cattle moan liquid breath,
as the train's wily whistle carries for miles,
tracking wintry winds that whisper of the place
forged and honed;
where the winter rider is welcome,
where all weary are welcome,
to the heart and hearth of our home
Written by
patty m  ether
(ether)   
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