Photo and words by S.W. Cosgrove
Found in the bottom of a box, a faded photo from the late 20th century reminds me….
I’m thankful for the good fortune of being to the farm born
to know the everyday miracles of life and the daily wisdom of death
the smell of fresh turned earth
clover meadows washed in spring rains
a lively horse and a smart dog
the summer sun setting late through the oak trees around the screen porch
dandelion wine from a chipped water glass
and chokecherry preserves on fresh baked bread….