From the Wind
by Joan Luther
After the painting Walk in Beauty by Ann Huston

Along the wilderness field through prairie disclosures,
Whispering wind approaches our wandering figures,
Whipping heedless wings into winter’s golden heavens
As wild grasses wave, following tactile gestures.

Where would winding words escape? Ah, leaves,
Tall hills, roots and icy rivers, gently leak
Their secrets to passing wildlife who may hear
Tales from the land, an ancient native story

Of a local woman searching for her lost love,
Whispering mysteries in a time burrowing beneath
Then carried upward to the soul underneath
And into every exploration of our being.

Frozen moisture on prairie grasses waving onwards,
Swirling around; tiny embroidery floats through the air,
Creating a whirling swirl along the path tonight,
As we gently move together into waning light.

Reaching for my fingers, our hands caress
The seed grains which our ancient ancestors
Discovered and relished for their exigencies,
As frozen evening air kisses our cheeks

Disclosing her whispering beauty in the wind.


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