As tender sweet dew descends,
the night time scent of fresh pastures waft my way.
I am taken back to so many times
and places where the scents of
wide green pastures had filled my head before.

There was a time when those scents were taken for granted.
There was a time when they were not even known.
For too many people, the scent of the country is unknown.
That is a crime.
That is a crime.

All people should realize their roots as humans.
We should be humans, not consumers,
though the difference evades most.
We should be humans, aware of ourselves,
defining ourselves through our relation to the land.

But as consumers, we define ourselves by our possessions:

“I am the owner of a black truck.”

“I am the owner of that house.”

By our status:

“I am the manager, the father, the leader.”

By our greed,
Our need to consume:

“I am the customer, patron, patient.”
“How much is it?”

But not by who we are:

“I am a spirit, trapped and striving; I am me.”