Not awake yet
shuffling through
the sludge of sleep,
walking and talking
until
movement shook me
gently awake
dregs of sleep drifting
like the heat of the day
settling into the trees
as the sun slips
down and down
to the horizon
painting the land in
deep yellows and golds.
With the soft breath
of a cooling wind,
I walk on.
“Rise up nimbly and go on your strange journey.”
~ Rumi
In late afternoon
summer heat
tough prairie flowers
cheered my walk.
“Flowers are for our souls to enjoy.”
~ Sioux proverb
The chaos in and around
city
town or
country
like strong prairie winds
that push aside
all the growing things
uprooting some, but
have no purchase on roots
reaching deep,
growing strong
to nourish us tomorrow.
“Chaos is the score upon which reality is written”
~ Henry Miller, writer
