Prairie Grass

Distracting myself on a cold walk home.

Cigarettes in that winter prairie air
Watching the smoke tumble down to the street
Under the sodium orange glow on this side of town
Looking at a bar on one side of the street barely hanging on
And on the other, prairie grass poking its head through the drifts
I keep thinking of what that grass must have seen in it's life
What's come and gone, what's here and what isn't
The first nations on the trail of the biggest hunt of the year
The emptiness when the wildlife was gone to better places
The fear when industrialization moved in and dug up the earth
The grief it must've felt when the pathways turned to asphalt
But here it still stands off the side of the T.C.H,
Waiting for the summer
Overlooking this bar that probably hasnt broken black since 73
It probably wonders why it hasn't closed up shop yet
Maybe the grass ain't alive at all and I'm just somewhere else
Trying to distract myself from the autumn jacket in thirty below
Tossing my dog-end to the ice below glancing over at the grass
It was almost like it was watching me, judging my choice
I pick up my butt, throw it in the can and shook my head,
Walking on down the road trying not freeze out here
Home didn't seem so far away now
Thinking about that grass, it's sentience and the life it's lived.