Prairie Time

Alone on the prairie, time will gently slip, ‘til minutes and hours start to lose their grip. Can’t measure the day by a clock’s turning hand, but by the sun, the stars, the clouds, and the land. By how long it takes for a bee to float by, or a hawk to soar across the open sky. A black thunderstorm to roll over the plain, or a groundhog to pop up after a rain. By watchin’ a deer as it bounces away, or seeing two eagles in the sky at play. A bison to graze, or an elk take a drink, seems the prairie can change as quick as a wink. But you'll soon realize the land didn’t change, still a sea of green 'cross a wide open range. Speckled with wildflowers that dance with the breeze, to the tune of wind blowing through Aspen leaves. Yeah, on the prairie you can lose track of time, but the Pronghorn and Sage Grouse don't seem to mind. Robins and meadowlarks will sing you their tune, while you watch as the sun turns into the moon.