Windstorms rattle my bedroom windows
accost cars, buildings, and pedestrians
toss rolling tumbleweeds that inspire me
to hum songs by the Sons of the Pioneers
from “Ghost Riders in the Sky” to “Cool,
Clear Water,” never once do I contemplate
moving from my home, rambling like sagebrush,
invasive Russian thistle, or winged pigweed;
my mind marvels as each wind witch somersaults
across the prairie, sticking landings, trembling
silently before pulling loose, doing cartwheels
as I seek sanctuary in song, freedom of motion,
and reluctance to change; thank-you for gust
resistance as darkened skies fork, followed
by thunder’s rumble, dropping desolation’s seeds
like calling cards as rain strikes and sinks in dirt.
accost cars, buildings, and pedestrians
toss rolling tumbleweeds that inspire me
to hum songs by the Sons of the Pioneers
from “Ghost Riders in the Sky” to “Cool,
Clear Water,” never once do I contemplate
moving from my home, rambling like sagebrush,
invasive Russian thistle, or winged pigweed;
my mind marvels as each wind witch somersaults
across the prairie, sticking landings, trembling
silently before pulling loose, doing cartwheels
as I seek sanctuary in song, freedom of motion,
and reluctance to change; thank-you for gust
resistance as darkened skies fork, followed
by thunder’s rumble, dropping desolation’s seeds
like calling cards as rain strikes and sinks in dirt.
