Lone Prairie

Out here in these Montana hills
where you can see for miles beyond--to where the dusk meets the night
to some solo lights out in the sky
And a man could wander all day
and still not see a soul
stomping through this native grass, bending in the direction of the wind
A thousand miles of wonderful
whispered in the wind
between the blades of beauty
the glowing fields of grain

And this restless soul, searching for peace and meaning
can follow a fence line and soak in that silence
spoken for two hundred years of settlers and homesteads
and these horse-ridden impliments
left to rust in the weather
forgotten by time and technology.
The sound of wild things howling in the night--
of horses and hooves and hammers and plows breaking ground

In this i find something more, something untamed and fierce
a pull to conqur, the ability to try
becokoing me further beyond
to where the morning meets the sky.