A hand flattened to shade my brow,
questioning the late-afternoon glare
diced with shadow, not certain I
should trust my wind-burnt eyes.
How to make sense of a tropical
memory skimming across this
land-locked farm, are those
pelicans on my prairie pond?
They’re rare visitors floating with
mallards and mergansers and Canada
geese. The herons are suspicious of
sea birds breezing onto our prairie
grass ocean but it’s fine, they’re
just like us, awkward and dazzling
creatures migrating across shared
lives, resting awhile, then pushing on.
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm