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December 9, 2000
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| nebraska | |
| The plains lie there, naked and lazy. Lazy? No, just perplexed. Tomorrow they will force themselves to get up. They'll wrap themselves in toast-colored grass and put on their new snow shawls. They'll sod off to visit their haughty cousins, the mountains, through the Valley of Smoke and down Blue Cloud River. On Tuesday, they'll arrive for the holidays under a pearly sky.
The plains don't know it yet, but the mountains have changed. It doesn't bother them so much anymore when the wind blows open their robes. Everyone knows they have hips. When the plains arrive, they will be welcomed with tremendous kissing of frozen cheeks. All will sit down to chicken and dumplings. |