Tall and free the prairie grasses sway-
Indiangrass, Grama and Big Bluestem-
stately watching over wildflower throngs
blanketing each gentle slope
of hill.
Brothers' keepers who signal
the sauntering clouds dreaming their way
in summer's arcing
sun.
It's the reign of yellows as far as the eye
can see: saw-toothed sunflowers,
showy goldenrod, tiny, rivieting tufts
of partridge pea.
Athrall in this sea of color
I maunder through the grasses,
occasional blue asters my
compass.
I hum to the buz of workman bees,
travel unmarked paths, together mine
for prairie sweetness, when suddenly
a patch of gentian appears at my
feet.
And congress with monarchs and swallowtails
who bask atop the golden buds,
dazed and drunk from Nature's
love.
Like a magnet I stick in this place
without force or rule,
without preconceived agreement.
In a place where I have no place
as the grasses who sentry,
the buds that feed my senses
or bees and butterflies who dispatch
command for future seed.
A feeling which is at once
void and abundant,
lost yet found, the ending
and a new
beginning.
Copyright 2008 Francis Don Daniels
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