I long for my country life once more. I grew up in the woods, with an open field as my backyard with a footworked path down to the chickens coop. Summers watching the hens pick at grass and my painted toes that were mistaken for bugs. To find that old fallen tree and climb to sit on it once more. Spooked for a moment by the long legs crawling over my hand. To climb my treehouse and use the pulley to bring up the berries I collected whilst wondering around. Missing being afraid of getting poison ivy on my legs, watching out for thorns. I’d go back to those days sitting on the hillside with my dog resting beside me whilst we watch the clouds. While I believe in no afterlife, to have dreams once more of those pure moments would bring me the most warmth.
