In Your Land

In your land, in your broad flat
plain land
we took shelter in small towns,
eddies around which the wind and
railroads thundered
It smelled me, tasting the soles of
my feet, painting me with its
burnt colored dust
What is this forest child, this
daughter of mountains and
foothills
Smelling of lakes and bracken
creeks and clay?
I, a far wanderer with a gypsy
heart
Will always reek of frost and
orchards. In Your Land by Dakota Farley