Oklahoma

I wandered here, barefoot on dust that remembers thunder, and the land whispered secrets only the wind and the rustling sagebrush could carry. Oklahoma? Oh, she thought it was just pretty a canvas of sky and soil. But I saw the soul beneath the surface: the lone tree, gnarled and proud, standing sentinel over a sea of silvered shrubs. Behind her, the earth roared in ochre and crimson, scarred by time and fire, revealing the bones of a landscape that breathes in silence. This is not mere beauty it is a poem written in rust and root, a story of resilience etched in the red hills, where the wind sings lullabies to the thorned earth, and every blade of sage holds a memory of storm. This is Oklahomas secret wild, raw, and utterly alive.

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