Temple of ECK in Chanhassen, Minnesota, it struck me...
Grasses of the prairie this September
In hues of gold and red, blue and fading
Green to silver-gray.
Seed heads thick and leaning heavily in bough
Each shaft a bow bent in archer’s tension
All set to release the magic of summer’s end.
I glimpse beyond this season, this earth’s thin mantle
Each an attempt to cover yesterday’s mistakes.
But September prairie grass is most sincere.
Even burnt black grows green in Spring.