Prairie Dreams

I dreamed the feel of the landscape

Waving golden fields and clay dirt

Beneath my feet.

I dreamed the wind

Keeping time with the gate

By the barn.

I held visions of barns, drawn with pastels

With big colorful silos,

Drawn with the expression

Of a child's hand;

Primitive and dancing under

The cloudless blue vista.

The fire of the prairie

Lived inside of me for as long

As I can recall.

The vastness, the openness,

The unpredictability,

The joy and sorrow of the prairie

Igniting my soul.

We all have an inner landscape which calls to us,

A geography and map we may not recognize

On a conscious level,

But something inside resonates

And pulls us—closer.

And if we dare to stay open,

The grasslands collide with another

In perfect definition,

The ghosts of buffalo roam

And the heart of the prairie fire

Lights the sky crimson and gold.

The Web Projects of Sondra Ball and Mario Cavallini