When we are sick
Our body suddenly appears as a conscience
Creating unease and pain
A burden uncontrollable yet much
thought about
The realization of its materiality
And the existence of the physical becomes more clearer
The mind and body separates into a two winged subject
As both separate and intimate existence
One that depends on the other and vice versa
This new rythmic thoughts go on.
A body, a presence is felt for the first time.

I long for the smell of fresh turned soil , an experience I've never forgotten ..
The smell of diesel , oil and grease  ..The ringing of harrow and bush hog ...
My Liberty overalls and size ten clod hoppers , suede cowboy hat , pocket watch and Bloodhound tobacco ..
Bob White Quail walking the wood line waiting to
get their fill of turned ground morsels , grains and grasshoppers ..
Curious Whitetailed Deer hiding in the shadows , Redtailed Hawks
with a keen eye for field rats escaping the plow ..
A sixty two Massey Harris that ran like a' Top ' through rain
and heat , never missing a beat !
My mind prays for the simple life of man and machine , the brushfires
of March , the restoration of God's green earth ..