Walking through bluestem in August. Sitting in tall grass in high prairie hills. Sun turning hot. But it’s almost September. Away from the road. Away from the clamor. Alone in the splendor. Crickets are in song. I am where I feel I belong. I came here on purpose but with no agenda. Just knowing where I wanted to be. I feel a sigh of relief breathe out of my body. I’m looking at a crooked stem of tall bluestem and it fascinates me though I don’t know why, maybe because it’s not like all the others. Colors of the stems draw my attention, a mix of red and purple amongst the green. There are sprigs of sage going to seed and the brightness of blazing star and yellow globes of broomweed. And there’s little bluestem and blue grama too. Grassy valleys unfold before me, and behind me rise mountains aglow in the rising sun.