as green paints brush on flat land.
Burned out trees golden with life.
Black haze drips down on the windshield.
Trucks pass, dogs in the back for a ride.
Clouds make images above.
Crosses mark the deaths of couples,
children, people. Covered in flowers
and gifts where loved ones morn.
Red barns stand tall in the lush grass.
Planes fly high over us. Lighting
stricken trees still stand.
Blue water towers mark the town.
Sun lightens the valley. An Indian
girl standing alone, waits to pass.
Dirt roads lead to broken houses.
Bright colors catch my eyes,
a dream plastered on a billboard.
Over the horizon to see four
island stretched in the mirrored
lakes. Flat as the world.
Blank signs indicating the road
a head. Dead ground soon to become
full. Just like me, just like us.
Deidre Grotbo
