Grass Land
short-grass prairie
close-cropped by herds of buffalo
broken by the plough
Grass Land
short-grass prairie
close-cropped by herds of buffalo
broken by the plough
Earth—this spinning ball
in space—and here’s my house
right in the middle
in the field a sapling
twisted by life’s storms
growing downward
oh, that silly kitten
curled up asleep
on my rising dough
(Yes, this did happen years ago. Sitting in a warm place, the dough must have felt soft and inviting — at least it was covered with a clean cloth. Cats can fall asleep anywhere!)
the scarecrow’s coal eyes
through the lonely night
glitter like stars
litter glitters
silver and gold from afar
empty promises
no wild-flowers
grace the prairie fields now
the plow has come
tiger lilies
lurking in the long grass
once tamed
a passing freight
roars through my musings — derailing
my train of thought
mists of time mitigate
the harsh memories stored
blessed forgetting