Come upon a rise of prairie grass,
willow bend of a rolling brook
and falling leaves and cottonwoods reach,
to the low setting stars,
into a blackening night of new moons,
and withering wisps of mares’ tail clouds.
From storms long ago,
horizons far, early dawn fading fast,
a sun rich morning glory of
awakened days and felt warmth
of a long sought prairie, lost amidst these times.
Far back, alone and memory rich,
in our hearts, we bleed and sorrow weeps,
songs of ages past, of uncertain present days,
to a future seeking blind and lost,
but for our prayers, amidst these blessings rich,
arrive to us, welcome us, into this land.
Michael Finch is the President of the David Horowitz Freedom Center. His new book of poetry is Wanderings in Place.
3 Responses
Finch’s poem harkens back to loss of what has been, while his trust in God provides hope to embrace what comes next.
Amen. Thank you Darlene.
Why does it take troubling times for us to remember the awesome details of an incredible planet that we live on and that God created?