A CRACK IN THE PLAIN
Suzanne Richardson Harvey, Ph.D.
A half century ago I planted my hand
On the breast of Oklahoma
I rooted it there in the Great Plain
The soil was black as bitumen
But the fistful I seized was dusted
With globes of dew
Yesterday I set the fingers on the clock
Forward and spread my hand across its face
There I tracked those cracks
Lacing the dusty clay
Announcing the waning of my cycle
Messengers from a dry season.
