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A Spear of Summer Grass
From the Look Up series. I was having Whitman thoughts when I fused this spear of summer grass into the prairie sky. Whitman writes in Song of Myself, “I loafe and invite my soul/ I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass./ My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air”. The sky bit came from eastern Missouri when my family was riding home from Tennessee, west into the prairie sunset. The spear of grass I've held for a long time from one of my many walks in Lake Springfield Park. In the midwest, there is always reason to look up. Our treasure is the sky.
