Through these fields
I use to walk through these fields often as a child. It was part of a farmer’s property that he had left forgotten. The man recently gave up his trade and divided his land for sale. It is difficult to watch as strangers come and place tape and make plans. How often I want to make the strangers understand the land. If only they could know where the coyote lives and the rabbit crosses. Or, where the best berries are picked, and what path carries the most blossoms in the spring. Where the deer lie for warmth in the fall or the steps of the old tortoise.
If they knew all this, then perhaps they would understand how kind and gentle the world about them is, and worthy of cherishing. Perhaps then they would not be so concerned with keeping the wild out, but instead, giving a home to all the little ones who need it. But this place was never mine to keep, and these stories are not easy to tell. And so I cling
May their children be raised by the wild