Yesterday’s Cry

Wind sifting prairie grasses
Sound like ocean waves lifting.

Red Wing Blackbirds
Perched atop saw grass
Have the simple regality
Of Plaines warriors.

In sun glinting
Off marsh reeds
I see the lances
Of bronzed braves.

In thunder rolling
Across endless grasslands
I hear war drums.

In millions of raised blades
The hands of the pleading
Yet call for justice
To roll like rivers.

In the emptiness of the yawning land
Time is inconsequent.

We are never far
From yesterday’s cry.