Why I Wrote Raised by Wind
There are places that don’t just hold your memories. They shape them. For me, that place was the stretch of Wyoming prairie between the Rocky Mountains and the Black Hills. Wide-open space. Hard weather. Dust in the corners. Chores before comfort. Wind that never seemed to rest. It was a place of beauty, yes, but not the soft kind. The kind that got under your skin. The kind you didn’t always understand while you were living inside it. Raised by Wind came from that place. At first glance, this poetry collection may look like a book about Wyoming, prairie life, childhood, or rural memory. And in many ways, it is. The poems carry fence lines, gardens, chores, dirt roads, storms, seasons, and the kind of silence that only exists where the sky has room to stretch. But the deeper I worked with these poems, the more I realized this book was never only about the land. It was about what moved through it. The wind. The Place That Raised Me I grew up in a landscape where the weath...