Flyover country between the mountains and the sea
Where you can drive for hours
Through hypnotic prairie on roads straight or curved
between endless farmlands, row on row
Of plowed earth, perspective forcing their meeting
At the edge of the world
That you’ll never reach as the landscape rolls
Beneath your wheels, so that you don’t know
If you are traveling the prairie
Or if the prairie is moving past you as you stand still
Never missing the supposed majesty of mountains
Never drawn to the ocean, a thousand miles away
Because you have the sky overhead
Higher than mountains, vaster than the sea

for OctPoWriMo prompt of 10/20/19, “mountain or ocean”

3 thoughts on “Prairie

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