Prairie Mandala

Soft, dry, grey dust,
ankle deep,
covered my feet.

Stars,
in a thick blanket,
filled my sight.

Rainbows,
after rainfalls,
painted my imagination.

Chinook winds,
like magic,
warmed me.

The brustling
of the tall grass
swaying on the prairie;

the humming
of solar winds
lighting up the northern sky,

their whispered rush
down the heavens;

the drumming
of thunder
gathering in the foothills,

its long stampede
to a sudden
sharp and shaking crash;

the scattering of raindrops
tapping on the ground,
melting in the dust,

converging
to a torrent
slapping down;

the rustling
of wind-blown cottonwood
and poplar;

the orchestra
that revived
my soul.



xi'an 2009 © garnet robbie