Texas . . .
"...and still our bare feet ache to remember
the sharp prick of a pine-laden ground."
Ah, my whole being reaches for the past in many ways - especially the odors, like gumbo-soil an inch or so beneath my nose when laying on my belly watching wild Bobwhites scratching the ground not 5 feet from me, or watching Yellow-jackets on a nest spanning 18-inches deep in the swamp - watching them watching me (scared to death)- wondering how badly my immediate future would turn out (never got stung!! Took twenty minutes to walk out of that fix!)...
and more, much more.
Good write, my friend.