Prairie Song

poem and enhanced photography by
JULIE KIM SHAVIN | Mother + Artist 


 

 
The image, Prairie Song, is a merging of many photographs. All were taken in Rush, Colorado, a tiny town “out in middle of everywhere,” as I call it. The bones are the actual bones we found that day, and the tumbleweeds were also merged into the picture with the windmill. 
In the treeless fields,
tumbleweeds–
round brown skeletons–
rip across the road
faster than cats or rabbits
We don’t hit them.
They flash like skinned umbrellas
across the pavement
dividing parched plains
 
Desolation takes us.
Skeletal remains
of sheep, cow, elk
fascinate the child,
who covets them, collects them,
brings some home
to show off. 
 
On the prairie,
the wind blows through them
all night, all day
making of the bones
wind instruments
making of mortality
a music.
 
Enjoy more of Julie’s work on her blog, Plums of Childhood
 
Julie Kim Shavin
Creative accomplishments aside, I seem to be no one. Or, everything is a matter of creation, says this existentialist. I call myself a stay-at-home nomad and closet optimist. I am she who makes things with color and words. I am anyone who has something to express, and insists on expressing it the way one wishes to (the highest joy). I am anyone who loves beauty. b) Everything inspires. All distinctions are artificial, but I am especially inspired by place; many of my poems call upon place as vehicle. I have been especially inspired by the landscape of Colorado, and memories of the deep south. I am inspired by loss and longing, and by the work of fellow poets. I work nearly every day, pickpocketing, robbing daily Peter to pay daily Paul. I read constantly. Other than writing or doing art, I play cello and am a mother. I am a disabled person who has to pace herself.