Prairie
-a poem:
Olivia I. WILLIAMS
———————
Cocktails tumbling —
Softly rumbling —
Tender, mumbling wind
Long grass
Grazes the woodchip trail
As morning grows past
And the sun prevails.
Immense oak trees
Tower and sway
Over clovers.
While whispering streams
Fill the day.
The oak
Sends shadows
Stretching across
The sunlit grass.
Though sun still
Lights the eager flowers —
It's one true task.
Worn oak lodge
Nestled in thoughts —
Dreams.
Moss on the steps
Small treads,
Leading to a true home
Of rest.
Inside — well kept
Floor-length light
Curtains of linen,
Billowing white.


The scent of firewood,
Lemon,
And lavender
Spills into every room.
Sunlight rests
Comfortably on the oak-paneled
Walls.
warmth resides
Flickering gently like campfire flame
In bedroom shadows —
Fire remaining tame.
A clock ticks on
With silent grace
Amongst the music
In the
Gentle, silenced place.
Teacups gather
Along the counter
From morning’s start
Still warm,
Resting against the
Oakwood —
Like integrated art.
The breeze glides in —
Stretching through
The yellow tulips.
Drifting near the prairie
Where deer settle along the creek,
Sipping from the teal cascade
While bending among grass
And settling in
The shadows spread —
Not even the rustling speaks.
Squirrels play —
Once they scrambled,
Now they stay.
Soon, the prairie settles
Warmth of sun retreats,
Sinking in ocean-blue sky
And cotton candy clouds
With new—
Starry night above.  
Faint golden glow
Of the lamp
Among the licking
Light of fire.
In the night,
As the last stars settle to rest,
A tender voice clears —
Singing as the sun sets
In pastel paint,
Voice elegantly swaying
A soft tune.
By the creek
Loons all coo,
Flying in tune together
Like a fairy.
The last gentle note —
Not leaving any weight
Of the day carried.
At last,
The day ends
On the
Prairie.