Lost in the landscape.
Feeling blessed by the bounty of place
and belonging
and land
and blood.
Under the stars
and out on the pasture
on this land my great-grandfather
bought for his cattle business.
Now a meeting place for third cousins
and conversation
and bonfires
and big tables full.
Lost in the empty landscape.
Until next Sunday,
Lizzie
Thank you. As the saying goes, not all who wander are lost. Wander-ing on. Somehow this poem reminds me of this song. "Traveling Alone" by Tift Merritt.
Great photo—so evocative. Alone but with everything!