I am little bluestem.
I am wild onion, purple fleshed, white flowers.
I am tall grass.
I am switch grass.
I am yellow brittle grass.
I am tickle grass.

First nation ones have always
slept on my shoulders.
Pronghorn and coyote hide here alike.
All the earth’s original
music belongs to me.

For hundreds of miles
I dance in multiple directions.
The wind among my grasses
is a dervish in ecstasy;
creating lines and cylindrical circles,
designs of a hidden hand.

I am Hair Grama.
I am Indian grass.
I am witch grass.
I am compassplant.
I am big bluestem.