Flying Home

Anxiety attack,

short of

breath, near tears, flying
from Pierre then

east from Denver as though

I'm really not supposed to be leaving

this place of wide open space.

In my mind's eye I picture

raising a gaggle of kids on a

ranch the size of the sky, miles

from the nearest gallery or ballet. Riding

for real, working

cattle, looking out over an ocean of fields.

This reality is so far from mine,

eastern liberal academic, recovering

vegetarian. And yet,

not as foreign as this ache feels.

A dream born of land

lust? A soul meant to be

cast open?

Rolling hills and run away.

Travel weary,

exhausted, vulnerable

to flights of fancy on

this flight home.

Ensconced now in walls of granite

Scrim of green and trees

Pressed in swaddled, now calm?

South Dakota Musings

Black eyed susans run the length of the road

Perpendicular to the parallel horizons

Big sky, huge land, open smiles

Sunrise

Yes, the deer and the antelope DO play

Amidst countless head of cattle

Cowboy hats and scuffed boots, drop yoke shirts

and tobacco without a hint of irony

If I had a type, it would be your type

Sam Elliot meets Monty Roberts over rhubarb cobbler

and Bud Lite

At the rodeo

Talking horses bred for quick boned cowiness

And Vaquero dressage

Thunderstorms shoot rain straight down

From the heavens countless miles away

Rainbows over wheat and round bales

A different kind of gold