On the Plains of Colorado

HOT. DRY. WINDY. AGAIN. 

I think I lived in an environment like the grasslands of western Nebraska and eastern Colorado in a past life. Long, long, time ago. So long ago I have no conscious memory, only a ‘grandmother cell’ that has been triggered with our journey across the vast, open, hot, dry, windy expanse of the plains. Only the feeling of this place exists. No memory.

Shade less, scorching heat, endless hot breath of wind, miles and miles of grass undulating, shimmering waves, giving the appearance of a great brown/green serpent writhing across the landscape. 

As the sound of my sandaled feet crunch on the crisp vegetation, sand, and gravel punctuates the rustle of the wind through the grasses, I feel overdressed. I should be naked, letting mother wind caress every inch of my skin. Carrying away every bit of moisture from both me and the land. 

A feeling of dissolving into the great expanse of wind, sky, grass envelopes me. 

Freedom.