Kansasas in not in
but you are

barely in
a reminder

wheels rolling
across plains
not so plain

hills rolling
from flint to smoke
at 75 miles per

grasshoppers nod
among remnants of wheat
in fresh-cut fields

destination, family
where words roll
in stories told

heat in the air
nothing compared to
warmth in the tales

with bonds
stronger than the hills
deeper than the bottoms

bonds now stronger yet
make parting
no easy task

hills, once more
until, finally
not there, anymore

A weekend trip took us to Kansas, where we celebrated Independence Day at a family gathering.

There’s nothing massive about the Flint Hills and the Smoky Hills of Kansas, but they still provide terrain with a striking view.

(Kansas City straddles the Missouri River and the Kansas-Missouri border.)

More travel for two weeks to visit family (starting Saturday) will means less time checking into WordPress.

Image: Library of Congress “a pumpjack, sometimes referred to as a ‘grasshopper’ oil pump because of its appearance”

Shadows Vanish

Shadows Vanish

Shadows Vanish

Choose a color in the white light
of a stark reality. Blink, and shadows vanish,
hidden beneath layers waiting to be revealed.
There is no mystery when the truth lies
before you. Later, when you realize
you’ll never really know, you can wonder
if you’ve made the right choice. Either way,
you’ll always be in the dark, looking for shadows.


This poem is my response to Twiglet #232 – shadows vanish.

Neither open road ~ American Sentence

Neither open road

Neither open road nor open door could lead this heart to leave your side.

This American Sentence (my first) is in response to Misky’s Twiglet #230, with the prompt of no rope. Read closely, and you will find “no rope.”

The American Sentence was created by Allen Ginsberg
~ loose American form of haiku, with 17 syllables
~ represented as a sentence
~ reference to a season is not required
~ similar to senryū
~ read more here & here

Image source: cullybarbosa at Pixabay

Shared with How’s your remodeling going? which is Open Link Night at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, hosted by Lillian.

Silent, Like Sleep

Silent, Like Sleep

Within the depths of my dreams lies the comfort
found in my mother’s arms, the same offered
in return, no words needed, when she was in need
in the last years of her life. While no soul is
ever truly silent, hers was gentle to the end,
and so she appears in my dreams.

The short poem is my response to Twiglet #227 from Misky, which offers this line as a prompt: “silent, like sleep.” Unable to adequately care for herself, my mother lived with me for the last two years of her life. Although it was a difficult time, I don’t regret a moment of it.