I'm standing in the middle of nowhere, alone,
in the gentle shade of a young elm tree.
There is poetry here; Not a poetry of words;
A poetry of the senses. You must see it, hear it, smell it, feel it;
Like the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the breeze.
Its brown water a home to a variety of life.
Cottonwoods blowing in the wind on either side.
An antique windmill on the opposite side:
Sometimes facing me, sometimes turning away.
There's prairie grass, sunflowers, goldenrod, thistles,
an assortment of other grasses and weeds.
Buzzards are flying overhead.
Butterflies and dragonflies closer to the ground.
A billion grasshoppers frolic in the grass.
Sometimes they brush against my arms and legs.
(I think there's one in my shoe.)
Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one
Mark Sebring (2016)
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