Western Minnesota prairies
Hills covered with tall, scratchy grass
And the hum of flies.
There are scores, maybe hundreds of geese
Just sitting on the lake,
Fat, yellow spiders waiting in their webs.

The blue skies are calling me
To run, to have fun.
But the earth is pulling me down,
Singing me to sleep:
“Hmm, Hmm, rest your back on me
“The sun is too bright
“Close your eyes, don’t think.”

I found a great smooth rock
And a smaller rock to prop up my legs
And let the warmth seep into me
and the humming of the flies
and inexorable gravity
and let the sleepy earth take me.