
Big Sky
At one time it would’ve reminded me
of America. The midwest prairies.
But I’ve been gone too long, and now
it looks like Denmark or France, maybe
wheat fields of Ukraine. Maybe before
when, and before then and now, and
At one time it would’ve reminded me
of morning, luminous patches on fields
in the dusty cotton air with spring wheat
tall as your knees. Sturdy and green.
Independent and self-supporting like
the clear sounds of vowels. Or verbs.
I know a woman from Australia who
lives in Dorset. She misses big sky.
Inspired by a prompt at Twiglet #318 AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney
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