The Badlands, South Dakota

a long way below
this window between tall spires,
nothing moves



cottonwoods dancing
in the river bosque brush
and cool the air



endless prairie wind
bends over the long grasses,
whispers in my ear



bighorn sheep graze
while tourists stop and stare:
wild nature stares back



travelers lost
in vast canyons and ridges—
listen to the wind





traveler's rest:
sunlight fingers its way
into the tipi