My Place

 

By

 

Jenny Guttridge

 

 

Sunlight on blue water,

Mist on shrouded hills,

This place of moving magic,

Instils my soul with peace.

 

When I was just a young man,

My father brought me here,

Enchantment shifted on the lake,

And bound my essence tight.

 

Seven mighty wonders,

They say this world contains,

I guess I dreamed of most of them,

And been to see the rest.

 

Although Iíve travelled far away,

Iím summoned to return,

The wonders of this big wide world,

Canít beat this place called home.

 

The mountains and the pasture lands,

The rivers, streams and hills,

Are intrinsic parts of me,

And ones I canít refuse.

 

These lands, that are my fatherís,

And, one day, shall be mine,

Are bone, and blood, and tissue,

And rock, and root, and stone.

 

My father and my brothers,

They know I love them, dear,

They to, are a part of me,

And serve to tie me here.

 

The hours I work are long and hard,

The work I do is cruel,

I rope and tie, and cut and brand,

Iíve always done my share.

 

I dig and drive, and fell and ride,

My hands are ridged with scars,

My eyes are faded by the sun,

Iíve shouted my voice hoarse.

 

Iíve never minded what I do,

To make this ranch work pay,

Iíve shot, Iíve killed for what is mine,

And Iíll do it again today!

 

My shoulders broad, my belly flat,

My back is straight and strong,

I stand as tall as these great trees,

That march across the shore.

 

When, at last my strength departs,

My spirit goes to God,

Lay me low beneath this land,

In the place you know I love.

 

 

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