Gypsy

When she planted her feet, her mind wandered.

When she walked, her mind lay still.

So, she walked.

Below scarp and drumlin.  Through smooth hills made silver by light.  She walked to a place where the land split wide open and bands of antelope spewed forth, inventing dust.

The last fence simply petering out in the bunchgrass.  Clouds tumbled aloft.

Some called this place the “Big Open.”

And that’s where she stopped walking.

From there she could walk in any direction, and yet, only now did she understand the freedom of simply standing still.

--Mitchell Hegman