it’s the plains that are flat
and the winds that scorn you and then
turn and beg you to play.
that hot puff of air that stirs the sands
at your feet and the sun hot enough
to turn you pink before you blink.
the grass that never turns more than yellow-green
and the wheat that stands higher than me.
thunderstorms that rage and throw night into noon
with their lightening at odd hours of the night.
Those solitary evenings with the crickets
chirping and the frogs serenading and jumping
underfoot as you cross the neighbor’s yard.
The low bellow of a steer somewhere
and the moon looking so far away while the
mosquitoes are quite nearby.
the sweet watermelon as the summer wanes
and the heat intensifies in one last burst.
Those are my winds, my roots, my plains.
Looking forward to being back in Oklahoma. One thing I miss are the hot days, call me crazy but 50-60 degree weather isn’t my thing (Ohio weather can be lovely though, don’t get me wrong)!