Dreams wake urgent truths
Hearts harbor said loud whispers
Quiet truth brings peace
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Dreams wake urgent truths
Hearts harbor said loud whispers
Quiet truth brings peace
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Nearly mile-high, this playa lake is an integral part of the Southern Great Plains biome known as the Llano Estacado—the Staked Plain.
Latest surveys on the Llano place the number of these shallow ephemeral lakes and wetlands somewhere near 30,000—similar to historical estimates. However, impacts of urbanization, agriculture and ranching have altered or degraded their ecological, run-off filtering and aquifer-replenishing functions. They are a dynamic part of the ecosystem and attempts to stabilize them have been ineffective.
Said clay-lined, water-filled depressions collect rains from gully washers and summer monsoons. They are the main surface water source on the semi-arid Staked Plain.
Since time immemorial, the playas have hosted stopovers of migratory geese, cranes and ducks navigating the Central Flyway. The life-sustaining waters also provide habitats for amphibians like toads and salamanders, as well as thirst-quenching oases for diverse species of mammals and feathered high plains wildlife.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Pale dawn hues on a crisp winter morning,
Dappled shade ‘neath trees on hot summer days,
Cactus roses drenched in dew, yet urging
Bold anthem of praise for scorched, bone-dry ways.
Toward crescent Moon like a starlit stairway,
Send snow-filled squalls and gelid winds howling,
Which piñon and sagebrush greet as child’s play.
Heartfelt laments of White-winged Doves mourning
Bygone days of their arid lands heyday;
Yet human connections, towns and farming,
Keep demise at arm’s length far and away.
Ethereal spirits enticed to play
By flawless rhythms of sun and breeze lingering,
Like whispers of comfort on hope’s causeway.
Cloud burst on rangeland with dark skies churning,
Hushed wings, flight calls from age-old crane flyway,
Shared smiles with strangers that take heart soaring
Like laughter and shouts of children at play.
Primal heartstrings...allows grace to allay
Pained souls and nurture hearts…accepting,
That tribulations need not cause dismay.
Said moments of heart, mind and soul merging
Endure as bridge to famed celestial gateway
And light beacons of hope mid stardust bearing
Divine glimmers—God’s grace—as life’s mainstay.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
On the shortgrass prairie of the Llano Estacado, American Bison (buffalo) favor warm season grasses. They graze on the move, rest and chew cud during midday heat, then lumber onward along watersheds and across ridges. They have instinctive abilities to find water and travel routes of least resistance. As a keystone species, their hooves aerate soil and disperse native seeds to help restore grasslands and biodiversity.
In ancestral memories carried on whispers of prairie winds, countless herds in search of summer grazing grounds carve unmistakeable northbound highways into the life-sustaining abundance of grasslands on the Great Plains. Now and then lingering echoes of hooves, like a primordial pulse of nature, turn into the thunderous sound and feel of a spooked herd on the run. Said enduring presence arguably wakes primal feelings of connection to the Earth and her creatures.
The near extinction of these iconic beasts from the circle of plains life not only broke the spirit of native tribes, but also ravaged the living heartbeat of the land, the buffalo. Once numbering in the tens of millions—then falling to the hundreds in the late 19th century—the buffalo survives, because conservation efforts in national parks, private lands, and Native American reservations have led to a significant comeback.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Wind-swept plain craves rain
Sundown weaves cherished curtain
Renewed hope takes reins
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Rumbling northward down a Llano Estacado ranch road trailing a cloud of dust, I eagerly make headway toward the Running Water Draw. It’s late afternoon and the air still holds a hint of dust kicked up by lively daylong winds. Given the low density of air at the nearly mile-high tablelands, the dust will settle by nightfall.
I’m in pursuit of a Red-tailed Hawk—a photo of the diurnal raptor—before it returns to its nearby roost. However, an enchanting shift in the mood of the prairie diverts my attention. I stop to immerse senses in an ethereal work of art, as Mother Nature paints the world with serenity. The dust-laden haze, warm hues of fading sunlight bathing broken cloud cover, and flaxen glow of withered prairie grasses have come together in a gilded symphony of light—a golden hour.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
Behold the rust-winged hawk
That sails on-high,
Over wind-swept grasslands
That sway knee-high,
Below sun-kissed clouds
In eternal blue sky,
Where intrepid lark song
Rouses mind’s eye
And imbues heart with peace—
Drink from the cup of life,
Rejoice, the Divine is nigh.
© Ilija Lukić 2026
When woes and worries reign, I ease heart and mind with reverie about the primal tablelands of the Llano Estacado. I allow fond sips of memories about the beauty and serenity of the arid, wind-swept plain to replenish my cup of life. My cup overflows. I drink deeply and find contentment in the richness of the journey—the abundance of grace that helps me navigate trials and tribulations, as well as savor the overwhelming goodness that permeates my life.
Sometimes life’s subtle tempests
Blow doubts into weary hearts
And winds of adversity
Shake spiritual bedrock;
Until, serene celestial scripts
Written 'cross sunset ramparts
Sway wobbly inner compass
Away from fearful roadblock—
Spiritual true north
Aligns with the Divine
And becomes tangible.
© Ilija Lukić 2026