Tonight as I'm watching the fiery waning moon ascend over what I know are gorgeous golden rolling hills with a lone tree etching itself into the moon, I think "we've got to take this place back, can't let it come completely from our grasp."
Hell, this isn't even my state, but I can see what we have in her. She's ours, just like my home state is ours. I'm in a place part desert, part farmland but all beautiful. The night breeze here feels so different than an indian summer Carolina wind. Not sticky and thick, clean almost sweet smelling. And the locals are like my kin without accents though we don't say a word. Yeah, gonna go watch the moon some more and enjoy that wind that's skipping across all those hills in the golden state. Icemonkey doesn't know it but I could stretch my arm out and touch him.
