Prairie Surf

June 13, 1989

Sea green sage foams across the heaving plains A froth of waves that roils and boils beneath A sun that's hot enough to drown in Out there, a cottonwood's crippled fingers digging, scrabbling at the clouds for life A late afternoon storm sails through with jagged masts that slash and slit the sky then thunders on, muttering low and angry threats Grasshoppers break the surface only to dive quickly back into the cooler depths.