Longing for grassland

Barren desert ridge is the old cracked plaster at which I stare
Lying face-up bed to ceiling
Imaging the surface as an arid wind-swept plain that is devoid of all
But most hearty vegetation:

Gray-green sagebrush perhaps
Sap-sweating juniper like grumpy old men
Stingily yield their hard sour little berries
Which no one would eat;

Or maybe even that is too much...

A plain of grass cropped close by equine heirs wild and wise and free
Of those mad conquistadores
With each lone oak the king of a domain from which he might build
His own deciduous kingdom

Danger in such a place
Needs must nakedly approach with fangs bared
Hunger-driven as might invading lion pride
Rush on with roaring vanguard;

Out of just a crack in the ceiling;