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go the noise through my home’s center
follow and out the back door.
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Collapsing into the prairie grass-covered pasture,
I closed my eyes and listened.
The wind hadn’t gone after all.
Its infinity caresses passed over the tufts of Love grasses,
rattling the small dried seed pods.
Its fingers played with the wisps of my summer-colored hair
on my forehead and cheeks.
The folds of my ears created a new
whistle for the breeze to play,
to slide across, finishing with a high G-sharp.
The noise vibrated the membrane in my ear.
“I am here,” the whistle told me. “I’ll always be around.”
The wind became my friend that day
and when the occasional draft bursts across my face now,
I want to dance with it on the prairie,
accompanied by the percussive rattle of Love grass seed pods,
until I fall into the sweet pasture’s arms
because my legs have no more strength.
Sounds like my youth. This describes OK so well. Mom B.
I’m glad the OK wind was part of so many youths’ lives. I hope our prairie stays alive to dance with our future too.
Love the word pictures you have drawn with this piece! Simply beautiful!
Thank you, Southwest Sara!
Oh Kelly, I loved this post! Such a beautiful experience that you painted with your words.
Hugs,
Rose
Hugs are a great way to finish dancing with the wind…back atcha, Rose!