City bound,
experienced, birthed
in the bustle,
though now it binds
as my heart pines
for the last stretch
of passed pastoral…
before the SunPass,
in a time before tolls,
passing the tractor
and grazing cattle.
I count down the days
until I can back-peddle
to the split-rail fences,
and enter through the rickety gate
to my soul’s haven.
Take me away and back
and leave me there;
come ’round to call
every now and then.
Laura Denise 
I like to visit the city but oh how I love coming home – where I can see the horizon from edge to edge and stars from my front stairs and sleepy eyed cows as I run past in the morning, and call to them because they seem to like me saying hello. This is a beautiful poem Laura.
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Laura, this is beautiful. There’s nothing like these roads and a soulful destination. 🤍
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