Prairie Crossings

Although it is only August, blades of grass, backlit by the new rising sun, are already turning color. I sometimes wonder if the Prairie has only two seasons: winter and exhibition week! During a resting interval from the day’s long drive, I saw a patch of grass in a ditch beside the road, everything around it was a lush green. It seems grass and leaves have a dramatic flair, saving their liveliest colors for the end. I watched the light an hour on either side of sunup, feeling spoiled comparing the splendor of the day. Prior, the midday light had been cool and often harsh by comparison. The sun, now low on the horizon, produces a strong side lighting effect, which gives the vast views texture and depth to a landscape without end.

The Prairie is not a place that pulls at my heartstrings, as might the Rocky Mountains or the sea. Prairie is quiet, gentle, and unassuming, with only fleeting moments of passion and drama. But its dominant moodiness makes the times of vibrant color more exquisite. However, the Prairie can indeed look monotonous when driving through it at 70 miles an hour. I needed to spend time on the Prairie to appreciate the many facets of its personality.

Even then, I had to return several times to look and experience the subtle shifts in temperament. Dull, overcast days, offered the best conditions to observe the landscape close up. One must give the land its due; when tones are even, devoid of bright highlights, distracting shadows, one is better able to appreciate the subtle nuances of color.

During this past year, making the drive from California to Colorado, the Prairie is a land of extremes, an immense area that touches all, in one way, or another. Neither city nor town is a sanctuary from nature’s dominion. Prairie skies put human architecture in its place; storms recognize no boundaries. I pay her fits of anger particular respect, walking into her heart, as if to prove her weakness or know her strength. Maybe, facing them head-on, attempting to wrest a portion of her beauty, is somehow a way to dispel a measure of her menace.

I’m an inexperienced child when it comes to treading land away from the seas. Meeting up with prairie is the most significant event in my late year tuition.

Wandering over the prairies The green tea light beckons Breath moist and warm Shape broad and honest I move across her form

Flouting her beauty shamelessly Not a sailboat to be seen I would come to her again Meet the challenge of her winds Crossing her mighty plains

Sometimes the clouds will wrinkle Darken her evening shadows A prairie’s petulant stage Enhancing shapes and textures For the poet on his page