Let’s do it.  Pretend. Pretend  the wind is blowing or the grasses are bending. Maybe clouds swirl  or it’s hot and the sun bears down.  Pretend whatever you want.  Pretend you’re prairie if you want. Pretend you have  roots and blooms of yellow or blue. Pretend beetles crawl in the dirt of you.  Pretend you are one of the creatures in between, small and quick and hard to see. Pretend you feel the brush of burrowing owl wings, or the  footfall of some wild thing passing by.  

Pretend you’ll go on forever like this, grass or beetle or bird. Whatever. Part of some vast apparatus. Or not. Pretend you’re not part of that whole big swaying rhythm thing. Pretend you’re not just some blade of grass in a sea of prairie, lost among many. Do that if you want. Like you know what matters. Like you know what it’s all about, you and the pioneers and everyone and everything that came before or after, doing what seemed to need doing. Pretend you’re not bored of all that, the why or why not and meaning and import and what to do next.

Maybe next is a door. Screened. And you see  green gold folds of prairie. Its summer and late afternoon and the door is  ajar so you push it open and walk out.  Just like that. You walk and walk and walk until you are lost among so many blades that you can’t tell where one ends and another begins. You forget where you started or ended or where you were going or wanted to do. You think you could be like this forever.  A bend of gold, a swirl of light, the brush of a wing passing by.