Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Something different

Space, Place and Soul



Something in this landscape calls out to me.

The prairies my vagabond parents

Ceased to call home after they wed,

But the weekend visits, holiday celebrations and

And long indolent summer vacations

Turned this red dirt into the

North Star of my existence.

Something in this landscape calls out to me.

The clouds shadowing the rolling wheat fields

Turning from a hint of green to the waving gold.

The scents of the seasons, each distinct to its

Own time and memory.

Something in this landscape calls out to me.

As I leave the interstate and turn onto the shoulderless

Two lane highway with its arterial dirt roads and

Tractors left in the middle of the fields and

Cattle lazily welcoming me with their stares,

I hear the deep interior response as my soul

Answers, "I'm home! I'm home!"

Homa