Muddy Boots, Mirrored Lakes

Muddy Boots, Mirrored Lakes

A vineyard is just a fancy word for grape farm.
The grass is green.
The leaves are yellow.
The rain has fallen.
The turkeys are perched high on fence posts like guardians.

It’s a good day for hiking.
Just south of the roaring highway.
Strolling softly as birds join in joyful conversations.
I hurry not as the trucks do.
I’ve got nowhere and no one to be.
Here among the hills, I am free.

Watch a video of this poem by clicking here.

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