Submitted by Ronald E. Shields
A black bear rears up,
ponders the long ripple in the grass beyond,
the space of its wake in the grass behind.
A cold hard lamp comes on over the prairie.
Its echo shines through a window miles away.
The Lakota woman hands me a book
our fingers touch,
the footsteps of a thousand generations
pass beneath our feet.
Are you a literary writer or poet? Send us your best work!
Photo credit: Late Afternoon Prairie – Carlynne Hershberger