Until We Meet Again
On a rural road in Saskatchewan, while the warm setting sun glances off the energized tundra, I ponder the lush prairie ground I've set foot. Dizzying to count the locations and imprints.
Places I'm certain others have walked, danced, and experienced. It's a sacred feeling I intuitively feel.
Many of them have gone on before us towards another journey.
Perhaps one day when others will stand in these quiet places I've been in awe, then inhale everything the prairies encapsulate, they'll contemplate these same questions. Then mull if anyone had packed a camera simply for the joy of photography. An immortal moment. That's not all so common.
The Common Place
It's a common place with common houses and a field or two,
Where common seeds have been sewn to make the land look new,
Old common streets with common cars that whiz on by,
Yet's it's not so common when it's just you and I.
So change the common things that you see,
Lift your head and look at me.
[Jeannettia F. Phillipson]
*Please view LARGE for best rural detail
**Textures courtesy of various sources on Flickr
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