Do not dwell on the shots you missed, do not fret about the shots to come. Work hard, have faith in your dog and cross the creeks as they come to you.
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I’m already missing those foggy, muddy days out on the land, chasing tailfeathers with my favorite men. I keep putting my nose into the wind when we go out hiking and running here, but it’s not the same. Everything feels edged with tameness, gently corralled by barbed wire and fenceposts. Even though I turn my back to it, I am aware of town, stretched out thin and humming in the valley below. I need a bigger horizon. I need more space. I need longer sunsets. I need the stars for a blanket. I need to feel the cold again, eating at the sparking and electric ends of my spirit, causing me to quicken my pace in a quest for heat.
Sometimes I think I know exactly how the mustangs feel, or the wolf that has been made a pet, or the falcon that is only set free to hunt.
I fret I won’t ever find a way to balance who I really am with basic, human civilities. But I think we all struggle with this, to a certain degree. Even the cities are wild jungles, in their own way, demanding a certain set of survival skills.