To Dance in The Flint Hills
Driving through the Kansas Flint Hills,
with the prairie's golden glow afire,
a soft mist has settled in.
Again, the rise of magic's call,
is so strong here. It is hard
to keep my eyes on the road,
as visions of the progenitors of this sacred land,
Kansa, Wichita, Osage and Pawnee,
all dance in celebration of the Grandmother's
gift that is this place. For she has surely
painted these landscapes to be seen
both from afar in the eyes of the red-tailed hawk,
and even deeper into the hearts of the men and women,
whose breath comes from this place.
As I journey farther west, I will savor
the substance of again, being the witness-
to the dance in the Flint Hills.