Thursday Poem - Epiphany

Lynn Schmidt says

she saw You once as prairie grass,

Nebraska prairie grass,

she climbed out of her car on a hot highway,

leaned her butt on the nose of her car,

looked out over one great flowing field,

stretching beyond her sight until the horizon came:

vastness, she says,

responsive to the slightest shift of wind,

        full of infinite change,

        all One.

She says when she can't pray

She calls up Prairie Grass.

Pem Kremer

Pem Kremer passed away several years ago. In life, she was a much loved professor at the University of Kentucky, and she was a fine poet.  I passed some of my happiest childhood days in the kind of boundless prairie fields she is writing about, and she captures the grandeur, spirit and vastness of such places beautifully.