Seas Of Endless Grass Poem by James McLain

Seas of endless grass call out my name.
Across the green, brown plains,
I come and go with each new reason.
Here the midday where the sun is never cold,
it burns away the night is white consumes them.

When they are tall, then come the elk,
once more in spring the wind it brings them.
Green ripe and sweet they press on high.
The roads they take, the roads they make.

You whom are my friends,
why are you forever gone like that I heard again?
I hear the wind is sighing,
after they begin some final trek to be never seen again.