• Melinda Dubbs (she/her)



Vibrant green rolling hills engulf

your little car as it sputters along the paved road.

Tall yellow crimped hay sways

with romance in the breeze.

It’s a bright yellow.

Goldenrod yellow.

A yellow yellow.

Just like the grass is a greener green

than your tightly trimmed yard back home.

12 mi


is the word you use,

awed of the mere existence of nature.

Not artificial nature. Not structured parks or astro-turf or trees forced to choke

down fertilize in a futile attempt to be productive.

8 mi

You feel something. Something pure.

This is life, you say. The purpose of everything.

Pretend to introspect.

Perhaps you can feel a bond,

a bond you used to know.

Something primitive.

Something human.

A union between you and nature

that never existed.

1 mi

Become overwhelmed with the desire

to go back to your roots.

The roots of humanity.

To return to nature.

Vow to surrender your current lifestyle,

giving up the material, and to accept simplicity.

Picture the off-grid cabin,

built with your own soft hands

in dense pines and downy flake covered hills.

It’s beautiful.

And in this animalistic state,

eyes wide with earthy rainbows

about how things are supposed

to be and how life should be lived...



Cover Photo by Madison Case. Edited by Caitlin Andrews.