Sparse trees stand straight,
hardy pine against the wind,
cottonwood soft in the gulch.
The grasslands roll,
sturdy but soft too,
losing ground, always losing ground
to cornfields abutting the sky.
Silent tractor smoke plume
like a lonely astronaut,
barely tethered here
to this strong earth.
Alongside telephone poles in rows
and drainage ditches,
martian silos and oil dereks,
and signs of how far we have to go
are manicured overpasses.
It's 80mph here all the way,
all the way to the Atlantic,
I suppose, on another summer's day.
copyright Tim Wolters 2007
1 comment:
Thank you, very well done, I'm pining for KS.
Will be there your Thanksgiving, at the Westin CC, you?
Cheers,
JK
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