Prairies

I've driven through the Canadian prairies for years. I'm familiar with the sand coloured fields of wheat, the yellow of rapeseed, the abandoned shells of barns and houses speckled across the hardened sea. I've always wanted to walk into one of the wrecks. It's as if sunken ships have come to rest somewhere that they can be found. Something keeps me from stopping the car and stepping out into the intimate unknown of the land. A privacy felt in its humbling quiet. A respect for it's generosity in letting us see the sky stretched out like nothing else could be. So for now I drive on past, a curious observer of empty spaces hoping one day to walk across the divide into this great possibility and that I'll know where to go, and what to do.