I hear, see, grow the silence of the fields, the farmers
having retreated into their farmhouses as graves,
the long acres of remembered wheat and alfalfa ghosts
as children leave the wide land for tight cityscapes,
their heritage harvested by the beckon of soft hands,
call of easy hours wiled away in air-conditioned, ergonomic comfort.
Wisconsin grows more cities in those earth tracts now,
with watchful cows, tails switching back and forth,
keeping the flies at bay as always, pendulums
beating borrowed time, but not the real estate developers.
Cheese turns to cheesy, milk drowns, downed in
power drinks from the Stop and Shops, strip-malls
and 7-Elevens spring up like steel corn stalks,
stakes and measures in and of the Dairyland’s heart.
* * * * *
Aloha #WriterMonday. Today’s #WritingPrompt is
Use it to inspire a piece of writing, and then post that piece somewhere I can read it. I would love to see what you’ve written : )