I am home on the range
on the inside range
frying up the bacon
scrambling the eggs
thinking about a wide open plain
where the animals are cooked
in the flash of the frying range
The smells of irresistible delight
waffling through my open kitchen
over unclouded stone counters
where the eyes and the ideas do play
with disjointed thoughts born of discouraging words
in a tame house drifting toward a wild day
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