Erin Hills

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There’s a buzz about town. I sit in my thirty-foot pine haven. Wrens frantically feeding young. A filament of rainbow web dangles, as busy spiders labor. The lush green of Erin has surrounded my poetic voice for over twenty-five years. The melody of wind through marsh grass, the rhythm of throaty frogs on tuffs of ground, and the chorus of humming garden bugs sing of home. Not this day. Thousands have found my paradise.

Knee-high rough fescue,

Thirty-foot towering pine,

My hiding place found!

Living about three miles from Erin Hills Golf Course has been interesting this week. Farm fields turned into parking lots, new highway signs pointing to the BIG event, and unending traffic. It’s like being in the eye of a storm. Hopefully, there’ll be no tornadoes the next few days! 

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13 thoughts on “Erin Hills

  1. I also sympathize! My little town is now a dining mecca and there’s a major festival almost every month. I hope they don’t throw trash all over your land. I love your contrast of busy nature with busy humanity. All the critters have such a peaceful way and then come the vehicles and port-o-potties, ugh.

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