In the Blood

Regardless of my travails, I’m home. 

While down in a hole, the fragrance of freshly mowed grass reminds me I’m still alive. 

John Deeres drive by as I swing on the front porch, leaning to touch the log home. 

Rabbits run the field where horses eat as cows swim in their pond. 

Geese eat alongside ducks next to fish, swimming in cooler temperatures below. They rest lazily in the heat as I run past, crunching gravel beneath my soles.

Bees, moths, butterflies, even wasps, surround me.  I appreciate each creature. Each one of us is alive. 

A stream flows into a waterfall, rushing below. 

I move. 

I run, therefore I am. 

I run in Kentucky—it’s in the blood.

















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