Some of the grandchildren of Ed and Amanda Meylor in the late 1960s.
Lost Children of the Prairie
Some rise like wheat,
hover between land and sky
despite drought and hail.
Some, like ripe seed heads,
are severed.
They float off to red stars on maps
like chaff
or bull thistles
or yellow mustard
that try to make do
in mud
or sand
or rocky places.
Like drifters,
who left sea villages
and mountain valleys
to settle here,
to uproot ancient prairie,
to grow children and grain
from need and desire.
And then watch it all blow away
with one mad
whirlwind of fire.
I wrote this for a writing class at a Brown evening course a few years ago and just found it. For some reason I can’t get the indents to work. Does anyone have any suggestions?
Between Land and Sky 
You can tell a lot just writing about hair. I have done a few now and was surprised at the response. Well done!
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I would love to see your writing about hair.
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