Kansas


Cattle bellow in time

with the metal squawk

of the windmill.

And a breeze stirs

the Kansas dust,

sprinkling me,

then whispering through the corn.

The truck in the distance,

is trailed by an earthy cloud,

silent until the buzz

of its engine and the crunch

of the earth beneath its tires

poke through the stillness.

It descends into a green patch,

which muffles its approach.

Then, crawling out of the copse

it swells and clamors toward me.

On the farm, scale means little.

What’s a mile against

the immensity of clear, blue sky

over rolling plains?

#poem

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