The Call

Here is a poem that I wrote over break while driving through Kansas:

The Call

Driving north on 81
There’s grazing land
All around
The winter wheat
Does poke its tufted
Green head
From underground.

Nothing between me
And the edge
of the world
Rolling waves of
Earth caress the
Sky –
A two part harmony
of grand improvisation.

The prairie beckons
Me,
Whispering in my ear,
“Come, Ride the wind
until there is no
more to see.
I will not hinder
You,
Nothing’s in your way.
Please come,
Dance with me.
The moon can keep
Our time
Bison and birds will be
The orchestra,
And I shall be your
Lead."

To the west I glance
Nearly heeding the call
But with self-control
I do not go,
Do not turn my wheel
To follow the
Threaded dirt road
To the end of time.

I still go north
With my eyes straight
Ahead.
I do not look to
The east
Nor run into the
Arms of
West.