the country is for touching
The country is for touching.
The kind that is infused with light.
The girl over on a hillside of flaming sumac,
lying under the sun of midsummer,
surrounded by prairie wheat.
The past has a certain glow.
Of course the “real thing” can be stimulating, too.
More satisfying than you could ever anticipate.
Something a little warmer, more vivid, simmered slow.
