On the other side of the mountain,
A wild prairie grows like a water fountain.
Your father built a little house,
After the family left the big woods of Wisconsin.
Horses whinnied as they sniffed the blossoming weeds,
They were ready to go to take an adventure.
Hitched by a strong rope as they took the lead,
I can see the rolling plains that bring a green juncture.
They all went down on the banks of Plum Creek,
The earthly walls were so bare, reddish-yellow.
All ridged and wrinkled by forgotten peeks,
Across the banks of the river sags with willows.
It's the prairie life that makes me alive,
Deers and horses nibble the green grass.
As they graze in the sunshine and pools they dive,
The wheat glows so ripe like a dull brass.
I tied up my arms every cold night,
The fire on the hearth makes me warm and cozy. Misty prairie sounded by crickets and fireflies,
Made me stay inside until I felt drowsy.
The autumn chill that comes around,
I love the blooming wild larkspur that I found.
Long years and frozen nights
You always go back to the cabin and make it bright.
I didn't complain about this prairie life,
It was real, gaudy, and meaningful.
Weaving the threads of my existence,
Made me so much older, wiser, and more beautiful.
YOU ARE READING
The 18th Amendment (Revised Edition) (Anthology I)
PoetryTrying to reinvent himself during dire times. He found himself in a crooked path that no one leads to happiness.
