GO to Colorado.
Your restless soul would
Fill up, your lonely world
spin dizzy under the wild splendor.
You would grow roots there.
Your Midwestern heart holds a shovel and a
been taught to throw dirt on the dreams
that haunt you with whispers.
Clap your hands over your ears
Throw 12-hour days over the back of the chair
trade your boots for sturdy walking shoes
And follow the road across Kansas
to the place where
pines sigh and the aspens rattle
and the mountain lakes throw deep cold
right back into your lungs
Come to Colorado.
You are only mirroring the long empty fields
with long empty hours
you stay because it is the loudest clamoring
in your ear,
But isn’t the rolling whisper
from across the Kansas flatlands,
down from the mountains?
it will never quiet, you know
but will always clamor
back in your head
Listen to it awhile.