Thursday, August 23, 2018

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


Tabor said...

I have been there more often with a field of something planted by the farmer. But still making one feel a vastness and a smallness of self.

littlemancat said...

This is where we find what we're looking for - out in the natural world.
Thanks for the poem.

kerrdelune said...

I remember visiting a cousin's farm on the prairies as a child - the sky went on and on forever, and Pem's poem captures it perfectly. Sunrises and sunsets were amazing, and one could see for miles.