Montana

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Montana

I feel your rugged face,
coarse lines of aging grit
reflected in your somber eyes.

I feel your mountain tops,
jutting through the clouds,
silent peaks and valleys.

I feel the call of wild game
through the white woods,
the eerie howl of mating wolves.

I feel barns and silos, abandoned farms.
Strange smells of unknown flora,
the surprising flutters of pheasant

I feel the touch of the morning dew,
caressing your beauty every sunrise;
the sudden warmth of healing sun

I need your grassy fields Montana,
take me in your arms again,
An eagle, soaring in your big sky.