There Was A Flood Here Long Ago

When the pronghorns lie down, their legs fold like tin cans
And the sagebrush gets ironed down
by all the prairie wisdom.

The coyotes never slow down, because they can tell cars from bad weather
in this cold serengeti made of land underwater.

Fossils all sleep here
in the petrol and gutters

And their stone hearts will beat here
As Earth turns forever.