Westward

A poem about my trip through the heartland of America, Kansas and Colorado

Across the Kansas plains of wheat filled fields

Yellow and green hues of nurturing yields

Tree lined rivers forever are flowing

To where they go, only they are knowing

Windmills of power and towering height

Dot the horizon as they spin in flight

Along the straight road, my mind is at rest

Free from my burdens as I head out west

 

Over a hill to the dry plains I see

A prairie drab without color or glee

Parched pastures of waterless furrow

Not a horse in sight or even a burro

Cows in the distance walk slowly to where

A small trough of water has life to spare

My thoughts are caught by the size and the scope

Of boundless nothingness so hard to cope

 

But along roads in Colorado’s East

Stand Milo meadows of fiery feast

Vermillion hues of rust and chestnut shades

Coalesce and fuse in a dance that swayed

From the wind composer who played the part

Of orchestrating the performance art

The phonic music of resonant tones

Inspires my heart and soul down through my bones

 

I stand among the fields, my arms stretched out

My fingers brush the seeded tops throughout

They rattle inside their hard shell cases

Adding to the harmony embraces

The distant worries of life’s commitments

Fades from memory and gives fulfillment

I continue to drive the long road west   

Forgetting the cares of my eastern quest.

 

Reviews

[Shy Joe]

I have a strong soft spot for poems with this kind of material. I traveled the same area on my motorcycle a year and a half ago. Thank you for writing such a wonderful piece. Really took me back to dry plains of Colorado and the wind farms in Kansas. Really is scenic country.

[mark r wells]

I drive to Colorado every year from the Washing DC area just to remind me what the rest of America is like compared to the Dog Eat Dog mentality of the East Coast. It is a real joy to make that trip as I am sure you know.