71 to bastrop

i felt the
primal power
of a land
so clearly
carved out by
the receding
glaciers of
the last ice age

the trees of
the hill country
have been blasted
by the howling gales
the branches
twisted yet grasping
at the light
cedars leaning
to the north
amid the signs
for dinosaur trails
and fireworks stands
there is an
lazy openess looking
out over the miles
rolling verdant hills

but you can feel
the ice as it
had shaped the land
an ancient wonder
coming from the
bones of the earth
impossible to ignore
it calls to my
half beating wolf’s heart
a howl growling
in the back of my throat

you just have to
ignore the cookie cutter
bland brand names
lining the broken
stretch of highway
between austin
and sleepy bastrop
failing to tame
the primal beast
in outskirts of
texas hill country

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