Mandala Poem by Garnet Robbie

Soft, dry, gray dust,
ankle deep,
covered my feet.

Stars,
in a thick blanket,
filled my sight.

Rainbows,
after rainfalls,
painted my imagination.

Chinook winds,
like magic,
warmed me.

The brustling
of the tall grass
swaying on the prairie,
the humming
of solar winds
lighting up the northern sky,
their whispered rush
down the heavens,
the drumming of thunder
gathering in the foothills,
its long stampede
to a sudden
sharp and shaking crash,
the scattering of raindrops
tapping on the ground,
converging
to a torrent
slapping down,
the rustling
of wind-blown cottonwood
and poplar...

the orchestra
that revived
my soul.