The wind blows warm
Through the night,
Rustling the newly leafed trees
With a warning of storms
To come,
And I am reminded
Of other nights
Long ago
When similar winds
Beckoned to me
Through the leaves
Of mighty cottonwoods
And the groanings
Of lodgepole pines.
Those were my good days
Filled with friends
And adventures
That are sorely missed
In my current life.
One day, perhaps,
I will recapture the freedom
I knew
When Wyoming opened
Her arms to me,
When the endless western skies
And colorful landscapes
Challenged
My artist's eye
And fulfilled my soul.
Until then,
I will bask in the beauty
Of my memories,
Reliving them
With each trip
Through many albums
With each conversation
With those long ago friends,
And with each night
Filled
With bittersweet dreams
Of yesterday.