Somehow I Am Near


Observing, leaning closer still
A poke or prick, I’ll eventually feel
I’m never close enough, honestly
To the essence of familiarity
But somehow I am near
And I thank you


28 thoughts on “Somehow I Am Near

  1. Looks like that could be in Eastern Oregon or somewhere ~ and nothing quite like measuring up the barbed wire fence (too many pairs of pants have those tell-tale tears) ~ yet I imagine when coming home again or in anticipation of getting somewhere you wish to be, those pricks of barbed wire run like smooth fingers. Enjoyed this photo-poem combo πŸ™‚


    • I love that we share similar views/connections, Dalo, even if they are miles apart. This is the more north western area of Nebraska. Cowboy country, you see. Of course you would identify with its topography. I have no doubt that your barbed wire stories are a joy to listen to, Randall. Love how you described pricks as smooth fingers. Could be right. I personally enjoy the heritage found here. Thank you for reading, Sir.


  2. …and yet… very often, those pokes and pricks are so very much worth the nearness…
    Beautiful photo Audrey… wonderful place to sit upon the grass and meditate…
    Do I hear the songs of sparrows?
    Hope your day is as beautiful as your words…

    Liked by 1 person

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