Red turkey wheat heads bob above the flat horizon
Mimicking war bonnets bouncing on galloping steeds.
Beating drums of hooves pound the earth
Charging red-hot sparks of friction
Winnowing the shaft from the wheat.

Howling winds whoop out haunting war cries,
Echoes reverberate from Mesa to Mesa.
Shouts, entwined with shadows of twisting smoke signals,
Scalp creek side cottonwoods.
Skinned naked of their dry foliage,
Skeletons quiver.

In drunken concentration,
Metal dinosaur rigs move in phlegmatic rhythm,
Craning their necks, hypnotically dipping,
Sucking up black gold liquor, mellowed by ages,
Reserved in Nature’s hidden still below,
Intoxicated by the speed of light.

Harnessed wind power circles like a striking hawk.
Taut aerial cables bisect the blue grid works overhead.
Faded Conestoga ruts run parallel below.
History’s map dries in the dust and is lifted aloft,
Taking new direction.