if you took the soil from April's cool fields
rolling it in your hand
over & over & over
sifting it diamond fine
pressing it to earth firm--smooth
circling your hand into the velvet dirt
over & over & over
it would become this
simple brown linen cover
words like seeds sprouting to shadows light daybreak & violet nights
Cather:
Early Novels & Stories
Can you touch Spring here?
Summer's dust?
harsh blue winters?
tucked within its passages
the sublime hiding behind the artifice of structured narrative
"the plains reached out into emptiness,
peaceful and wide as the soft sky itself,
and
wrapped in a tangible, white silence"
black skies and yellow blossoms
despair & prairies golden
painted canyons to cities rich
fine mornings of possibility
meadowlark songs
arcs of human love & loss
every storm--every blue sky
held
in
this simple brown linen cover
