"Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie."

I nixed plans for a morning run and to head down to Valentine today because of the weather, specifically the wind. It has been howling all day and continues into this evening. I can hear it blowing through the windows and the fireplace, and the building has creaked and moaned with the higher gusts.

Appropriately enough, I've been reading The Great Plains by Walter Prescott Webb. It's an examination of life on the plains up through its original publication in 1931. Right now, I'm on the chapter devoted to the literature of the plains. I'm not a fan of most poetry. Okay, I hate about 99 percent of it. But included is The Dying Cowboy. I think this poem resonates with me because of its starkness and imagery. And because the wind tonight is telling me, "Welcome to South Dakota, Bri."