Driving long distances on our summer road-trips would have been much more tedious if I didn’t find the open expanse of the west soothing. Fortunately the unobstructed sky and billowing clouds fascinate me. So do the miles of sandstone cliffs worn by time and the elements, hardscrabble plants defying expectations and those mesmerizing yellow lines leading to the future. For those of us zooming by in air conditioned cars with our squabbles over pointless topics like who ‘crossed the line’, the scenery and life that flourishes outside often escapes our notice. But I often find myself filled with a desire to be part of the bigger picture that lies beyond my windshield and long to stand alone in the desert, breathing in the solitude, turning in every direction to see nothing manmade.
Unfortunately our speed engendered indifference to the beauty of the open west was tragically interrupted. The following poem is dedicated to all those prairie dog sentinels that have highways built, like the Berlin Wall, through the middle of their communities. May they always have wide open spaces to guard.
Cynomys Memorial on Highway 6
Warming sans plate
a scavengers dinner awaits
behind me, in a direct line
with my future.
No appetite to sample the
7000 layer history cliff cake,
or wonder when the
whipped cloud dollops will plop,
I just won,
despite my swerve,
another gut clench
game of chicken,
with that thump.
~ Elizabeth Caldwell Grant
