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         Minnesota, My Home

By Elias Carlson




                         is the place

                         I call home,

                         The place in

                         which I live

free and happy.  The Summer comes

bright and beautiful as if to say, slow down

and everything will be  alright.  Childrenís laughter

echoes through the streets of town while they run and play.

In the country cattle beller in the distance, the sound filling me with joy.

The rattle of the hay-bine and swather are music to my ears, and the smell of hay

makes me reflect on the good times Iíve had here on this old farm.  The river runs by the hay

field taking its time, not having a care in the world, which way the next bend will take it.  The   

old saw-mill yard stands barren ever since it was shut down years ago. The shed sags

  and groans tired from being used,  and the wind blows all season long,

  Gradually at first, slowly but surely.  Autumn awakens and the days

  Start to get shorter again, the trees turn their colors, a wondrous

  sight really.  The contrast between the deciduous forest  and the

  evergreen trees still takes my breath away, though Iíve seen it

  almost seventeen times.  The river fills up with dead leaves,

    making the stream look like an ocean of red, yellow and

    green.  I take the dog deep into the woods to hunt grouse,

     and search for this yearís deer hunting hot spot, the dog

     sniffs out a grouse and lets out a yowl sending the bird

      into the air, and into my shooting zone. Days full of fun,

      until now, Winter rears its ugly head, making the fun

      times scarce and bringing in a scornful blizzard, which

      rages forever and ever, whiting out the ground, taking

      hopes and dreams of the wondrous warm days and

      crushing them underneath its giant horrid feet.

   The night wind howls constantly, like  a  ravenous

pack of wolves clawing at the old house threatening

to take it down piece by piece.  Then old Minnesota

 calms herself down and relaxes while her inhabitants

       enjoy a few days of calm warm weather, where

       it gets so warm and the sun shines so bright on the

       compacted snow, sun burn is inevitable. This awful

       season drags on until, finally a new time has come.

      Spring is finally here again. It all starts with the geese

     coming back, their triumphant call is heard for miles.

     Then the tiny tint of green shows up again in the trees and

     the grass starts to grow, getting taller and taller until I first cut it,

     And at night,  the cool breeze blows while I listen to the frogs calling

    back and forth to one another,  and I sit with the spotlight ready to shine

    any deer that come on to the field so I can see how many we have this year.

    I will wait patiently for the warm days to come again,   and make life good.

  Yes, I love this place, and I hope to never leave, as I know it will never leave me.