If you're not from the prairie, You've not heard the grass, You've never heard grass...
In strong summer winds, the grains and grass bend
And say to a dance that seems never to end.
It whispers its secrets -- they tell of this land
And the rhythm of life played by nature's own hand.
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image: HENRY RIPPLINGER
story: DAVID BOUCHARD
from, If you're not from the prairie . . .
2 comments:
my prairie soul smiles ... sigh ... and thanks
Loved that one-it reminded me of the movie August Rush when he could imagine notes in a field of wheat...
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