Poetry Of Spirit And Light: Lost Horizons

Endless seas of grass and elusive horizons once defined the wilds of the Llano Estacado. Below these lost horizons and shrinking expanses of virgin prairie, the Llano still dances to familiar seasonal rhythms--the wants of drought and abundance after summer rains. It rained last night, albeit light sprinkles amidst a lightning extravaganza.

Four rain events, to include three consecutive days of exhilarating soakers, appease Mother Earth as she struggles with the ravages of drought. Her burnt complexion relaxes, cavernous cracks and wrinkles disappear from her countenance, and dormant flora and fauna stir to life.

Cooper and I pause our commune with nature in the shade of a lone Siberian Elm. My rambunctious canine companion shares a moment of quizzical interest with my camera, before he ambles off in pursuit of scent trails. I take time to absorb a full measure of the fleeting beauty white clouds create as they drift across the azure canopy of high plains sky. Southwesterly winds send ripples across my shirt and tug at my wide-brimmed cowboy hat. My spirit saddles the wind, races with mischievous waves dancing across endless grasslands, then soars into the embrace of the heavens. A glance over my left shoulder finds the terra cotta hues of a rain-drenched ranch road. It anchors my return to reality.

© Ilija Lukić 2011