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I wrote this poem a number of years ago when we lived in Texas, on our way to visit family in Kansas, knowing we would eventually retire to the country. It has been published in Runnymede News, Poets' Gallery, and Homeward Tracks.


Sunflowers bow dead heads,
their glory spent. Mimosa fades
with summer dreams, shudders
beneath a gray flannel sky laced
with wires. The swallows flit
in dark, shifting patterns.
The river lies drained, cobalt
shapes conforming to a copper bed.
Cream-faced cattle plod and graze,
plod and graze. Across the highway
stubble smokes where children
used to romp barefoot.

Today they ride a yellow bus:
It plows through the dust, past
the shuttered one-room schoolhouse
to the gyms, computers, labs
of a busier town. Established 1917
the drugstore keeps its corner watch
with vacuous eyes wearied by change.
Pear-laden boughs extend an offer
of pies for community suppers,
preserves for winter pantries.
Leaves skip down the church’s
tin roof, scurry like squirrels around
the sign below: Fall Revival. Read More 
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