poempourri

The newness of you is becoming
more
something like a prairie, now.
The bright open ocean of grass
new and ever reaching
becoming
more
the place for home
the place for roots.
I feel like we can remember, you and I, the shoulder high fields
of brushing stalks
tall grass shushing the world,
even though it has all been long gone
before we were delivered to earth.
Maybe someone held us and said:
This is the world.
It is tired and mean and worked-over,
but you are here to love
to be in love
to remember things you have never seen
to mingle and sway and be tall and open to the sky.