Night Ride Across Kansas

Upon the occasion of driving across Kansas in late November, 2013, Interstate 70

 

The flat and the tall turning in the stripes of red and yellow and blue

White, the giant’s curls, the giants’ songs across the plains and they spin and dance, a curlicue of love and power with pride stand tall.

Brown and weathered the grasses die as winter leads the dance.

And there above, Venus swirls and shadows the rolling rolling rolling hills.

Kansas isn’t flat, the prairie has breasts, teats, paps that feed the land and all who trample her body down.

She gives and gives, the twist and turn of earth beneath the sky sparking for the cities away away away from here and still the earth spins and the prairies pour the milk of wheat and grain and bean, the meat of cow and sheep and all march across her soul.

Wind, wind milling, milling sparks and as the night comes on, the yellow easing into green and blue sky above, violet clouds kiss the horizon with red and winking lights along the giant’s reel.

A square dance and do-si-do and bow to your corner arms akimbo spinning swirl into the night.

Black cutout trees against the light, and in the distance … time.

And in the distance, nothing left to tell the tale of sod and bison and melting trails into the endless count point of dancing day and death-stalked night.

The howl and sting and precious wanderings lift high their hands to dance to dance to everlasting dance and lead us on forever west.

The day, the night, and still they come, the scarlet winks, the whores of promise that it will be all right, that she is endless prairie and her gifts will be new every morning, the glory and the mercy of her bounty ceaseless even in the barrenness of wants.

Ribbons trace and ribbons fall and the dance goes on.

The lighted cross alone in the field a testament of lies declaring providence provides where the storms steal and the gray gives way to blood.

Beauty is in the eye, they say and the prairie’s eye is green and gold and spinning, giant eyes of red on stalks on white, rise rise rise into the night.

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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2 Responses to Night Ride Across Kansas

  1. I love this tribute to my home state, my love.

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