HUNGRY GHOSTS AND HOLY PRAIRIE

I recently began organizing an urban nature walking group with my friend and fellow peripatetic Liam Heneghan. An Irishman with a fondness for spinning a yarn, Liam is a soil scientist by training but a poet by instinct. He looks the part, bespectacled and brandishing a long salt-and-pepper Whitmanesque beard that serves as a stray pencil holder. From him, I’ve picked up Irish double negatives like “that’s not nothing” as well as an appreciation of the tin whistle, an accoutrement always tucked into his vest pocket in case inspiration strikes.
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