if the great divide splits
again, and water rushes down
the rivers onto the wheat fields
of Kansas, we’ll see miracles,
we’ll notice grandeur, and
the hoped for tragedies will poke
holes through geometry, while
winter-riders of noisy conveyances
will chuckle their yippee-yi-tee-tommyhawks
again and chase buffalo
through the streets of El Dorado.
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
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Lucky Star Sandie May Angel :o)