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Home In The Country (At Last)

By Wil C. Fry, Oct. 10, 2000, 17:17

Copyright © 2000 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


Too cold for chirping crickets
On this dead October night
Silence
As of the wide-open spaces
It is almost too loud to bear
I walked a distance
Still seeing nothing
But trees, grass and sky
Any minute,
Expecting a car to roar by
or a light to turn on
or a gangland shot to go off
But
Alas
I am home in the country
At last



The first poem written after I moved from Arkansas to Oklahoma



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