GRASSLANDS PSALM
“And the poore Beetle that we treade vpon
In corporall sufferance, finds a pang as great,
As when a Giant dies.”
– William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure 3.1.77-79
“I will awake the dawn.”
– Revised Grail Psalms 57.9 and 108.3
dirt road
under cloudless
afternoon sky
meanders
past the cemetery
edged with conifers
winds swell
leaves rattle
on swaying branches
of cottonwoods
planted
by ancestors
who now sleep
beneath soil and sod
antelope tracks
in mud
hardened by the sun
i follow
naked as a boskos
i run
chanting antiphons
in response
to singing winds
stopping
listening
to yellow-headed
blackbirds cry
straddled to stalks
of tall billowing cattails
where cobwebs cling
young shoots
peep up
anticipating
the view
of those tall dead cattails
gone to seed
brown and brittle
a husk from last harvest’s
sunflowers
rests in my palm
painted turtle
crushed
onto paved road
its blood
red
the same color
as mine
did it feel
the giant’s pang
the moment
it died
i study
the fractured rock
vestige
of paleozoic seas
its fossils
millions of years
older than me
and place it back
where i
had dared
to disturb it
muskrat lodges loom
above dense green duckweed
killdeer call
in nearby soybean fields
mink dashes
between sturdy oak trunks
rotting fish stench
hovers in evening air
white snake vertebrae
scattered on shoreline rocks
in purple and crimson
the sun sets
behind clouds
chorus frogs sing
in twilit ditches
where dead mayflies
lie in piles and drifts
procreated
and spent
a bundle
of bleached bones
and matted hair
partially obscured
by swaying grasses
all that remains
of a badger
that once lived
and moved
and had
sentient being
hint of skunk
wafts across
darkened fields
on rising winds
andromeda’s stars
older than gilgamesh
shine unseen
in overcast night
flickering lightning
illuminates
clouded darkness
with jagged light
while thunder growls
mutters
brays
and tepid raindrops
pelt and pit
cracked dry earth
breathing deeply
feeling my heart
beating
i believe
with my singing
i still can awaken
the dawn
selah
