The land was prairie
Untouched by concrete and steel
Looking as it has
For a thousand years
Walking along…
Stopping, just to listen…Nothing
Ears cried out ringing
Straining to hear something…
To hear anything…Silence
Skipping along the plains
A breeze, awakening the senses
Playing a chorus for the ears
As it lazily passed by
The native grass
Reaching to the sky
Hypnotically swaying in unison
With a fluid motion…
Driven by the wind
The land was alive…..
For a brief moment…
Seeing through the eyes
Of generations past
Natural beauty of the rolling hills
The symphony of wind and wildlife
Experiencing The Great Plains
Overpowered by this place….
Called home.
Scott Mockerman 12/15/98