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| A Dance for the Inland Sea Annie Finch |
Water that moves, in a bodylike stream, through its cool channels fills the warm prairie's dream. Waking to tend it, the grass-moving sky pours with grasses. Big Bluestem's drinking roots lie nine feet down the waving, remembering sod they have swum through, to feed on, to build. When it swings like a wing in small flight, when it sways, turkey feet murmur, red three-toed feet sing. Little Bluestem, as copper as autumn or clay, floating seeds past the prairie's dense, watery hand till they shimmer to columns, wet smoke on the land; Indian Grass, lapping up the spattering sun; prairies step slower than palaces, down under the teeming roof of the ground, quiet as animals. Then, when they rise, prairies, like palaces, loom, and surprise. |
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