Off the Highway

In the land of open skies
The distance attracts my eyes
To things far away
That draw me,
Beckon to me,
Lead my mind to drift into
A reverie of times gone by
And places known.
The slight, dry smell
Of dust that rises to my nostrils
From the buffalo grass
That lightly crunches
Under foot
Brings thoughts
Of childhood wanderings
Across the pasture,
Around the yucca
And the cholla
And prickly pear
That could pierce the soles
Of your boots if you
Inadvertently stepped
In the wrong place.
Their shade also
A place to avoid for what might
Be quietly waiting there
To strike the unwary
Passerby who failed to see
The coiled serpent
With diamond head
And buzzing tail
Best ignored,
Left to thin the numbers
Of field mice
And pack rats
Whose tiny tracks made open
Lanes through the carpet
Covering the soil
In patches,
Great ovals,
That left spaces for
Assorted plants to exploit.
Jackrabbits, the long-eared
Hare of the plains,
Raising antennas to the sounds
Of rustling movement,
Detecting threat,
Then flattening them
In statue-like stillness
Before springing to lope
Across the prairie,
Darting,
Dodging,
Disrupting the Western Meadowlark
From his perch
On the dried stem which bore
Last year's seeds of the yucca,
Warning with his
Twee-tweee of the interloper
Into the domain
Of flitting sparrows,
Grasshoppers,
Dung beetles
And King birds which
Skewer them on the barbs
For later consumption.
Horny Toads
Skittering between snacks
Of red ants
Which left their trails
Radiating from the barren mound
Stripped of seeds
And vegetation,
Covered with tiny rocks
Excavated from deep
Within the soil
While the hawk,
Soaring on rising currents,
Looks from on high,
Vigilant for
Movement which might
Indicate a meal.
Life teems
Unseen from the highway.