| Late Summer Savior Plunk Plink plunk Plunk plink plinkity plinkty plunk Initially The dust recoils Then subsumes, taking in, thirsting The Buffalo Grass Tentatively lifts spiritless blades Seeking, striving, struggling Unfurling all its being To the Life-Giver, it's Savior While Meadowlarks Twist through the air Not yet seeking shelter. It rains on the prairie. |