while flying,
South Dakota appears to be
a beautiful quilt
of greens and tans,
neatly and lovingly
pieced together.
while driving,
South Dakota is
an endless agenda
that must be gotten through.
no amount of WAL-DRUG billboards
can change that.
the mountain ranges ebb
and flow
like terrain maps that seemed
so false.
what if they are the first form
of braille --
God's quiet letter of love
to his created?
A sure and steady proclamation.
under my hands and feet,
the mountains once so formidable,
are surmountable.
reading this story
seems easy.
one more switchback,
just a few more feet of rocks to climb.
one hazy cloud
mimics our plane.
is it the ghost of past planes,
an endless tribute to
human wandering?
once on top, the clouds hover
like blankets,
slowly and softly waiting
to put the mountains to bed.
we are above the clouds now,
cascading along
the seam
where
pure blue
meets white.
