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


Barbara Rogers 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.