I’d like to pause under the beautiful red oaks where my sisters and I played in our childhood.
I’d like to walk up the hillside to the graves of my dogs.
I’m sure the red fern has grown and has completely covered the two little mounds.
I know it is still there, hiding its secret beneath those long, red leaves,
but it wouldn’t be hidden from me for part of my life is buried there, too.
Yes, I know it is still there, for in my heart I believe the legend of the sacred red fern.
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