Sideoat on the side of a hill, standing alone and still, by a small human-made pile of rock I wish could talk, cattail sways in a valley swale, wild red rose hip in each water run dip, blazing star gray with seed here and far, sage white in the early daylight, bluestem, lots of them and a prickly pear on the stony ground over there, in a rolling high prairie where you can disappear from everyone and everything, where only you know where you are and you can hear your heart sing