Thursday, July 20, 2017

Thursday Poem - Epiphany

Lynn Schmidt says
     she saw You once as prairie grass,
     Nebraska prairie grass,

she climbed out of her car on a hot highway,
leaned her butt on the nose of her car,
looked out over one great flowing field,
stretching beyond her sight until the horizon came:
vastness, she says,
responsive to the slightest shift of wind,
          full of infinite change,
          all One.

She says when she can't pray
She calls up Prairie Grass.

Pem Kremer

2 comments:

Barbara R. said...

How very nice. Tucked into vales and craggy heights, I forget how I grew up on flatlands...there was so much sky!

Kameshwari said...

Yes! I remember the times that I remembered.