Letter from a Lost Texas Prairie

You saw me this morning.
I was radiant in pale first light –
diffused by cloud and canopy.
I saw you too.

We each walked the path of our years –
dissecting the understory.

You glowed
Fresh dew on my blue-stemmed heart.
We all followed; taking turns with one another –
Fairly sharing the role of understudy.

You never stopped smiling.
I was inspired by you.
Your strict code of order,
Your permeability,
Your steadfast resilience —
Even as I tread the path alone
I sensed you — watching me.

Several times you brushed my arm in passing.
I noticed you.
We all noticed you.

The smell of gin mingled with your breath and made us giddy.
Then your eyes went misty with a long-forgotten memory.

Canyon fog welled up around us as we descended behind you
and we listened intently as you retold the story of your past.

By the time you finished, we were spent standing still in the spot you left us.
I saw you blink back a tear just as the midday sun burned away the residue of our history together.
Then, you sighed a Blackland Prairie sigh and the seed was spread.

12 Million Acres (Original Size)
5000 Acres Left

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