Metamorphosis

August heat burns the tops of the dry grass;

As one stands out there in the great expanse of Texas plains.

One forgets the experience of being alone.

One forgets the nature of the human soul;

That absorbs the faraway look of the plains.

Pale blue bleeds the horizons of the sky;

While vibrant blue sharpens the center sky.

The heat is overwhelming until a breeze blows through;

Sometimes, a harsh wind feels like the gates of hell has opened.

Coyotes and other animals do not move on days like this;

One bit of friction or a lit cigarette produces hellish flames.

The horizon turns a dark purple as the sun slowly sinks;

There is fiery dragon’s breath moving according to the speed of the wind;

The fire dances like bright, red demons to burn the grass to black ash;

When springtime comes after the winter snows stop, the plains will turn green;

As green as a Leprechaun’s hat.

Beautiful flowers will make blankets of color on rolling hills;

It is then the plain renews itself like some miraculous metamorphosis.