oh silhouette
in blue
it's surprising
what you do
to me
This grain elevator near Salina brought back an abundance of childhood memories. I wrote the following poem several years ago. I thought it fit well with the image and the memories.
summer of sixty-two
we held our breaths
that year
from fall, through spring,
into early summer
and the crop was still
good
finally
the wheat tested
dry enough
my brother and i
did belly flops
into golden grain
and watched kernels
fall through our fingers
like time
through an hour glass
chicken was fried
watermelon chilled
and farmer's old trucks
lined up at elevators
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