"Forgotten"

 

"Forgotten"

Greg Budig 2021

I awoke near the open 

window. The softness of 

summer slowly crept 

into my room. It was 

perfumed by the darkness 

and yesterday's rain. 

How had I forgotten this?

I had slept so many hours, 

but maybe just a minute, 

the memories soon 

awoke in my head. 

Feeling lost had become 

a way of living, of losing 

touch with everything. 

 

I had forgotten about waking 

in the early morning dark

to drink my coffee and 

make my plans for the day. 

Watching the nighthawks head 

home to roost and the robins 

start singing before dawn. 

Forgotten the sound 

of fishing line peeling 

off the reel on a silent,

tranquil lake.  Seeing the 

bobber twitch before it 

slips beneath the surface. 

Feeling the line tighten.

Forgotten about standing 

on the edge of the unbroken 

prairie as it spread across 

the ancient horizon. 

Listening to the bird song 

emanating from the 

lushness of the grass. 

Forgotten the feel of the 

uninterrupted breeze that 

flows endlessly across the 

expanse of Stevens county. 

Forgotten that I was born 

there and may never 

fully return. 

Somehow I 

had forgotten. 

The End