North of Liberal
by Vaughn Neeld
–after William Stafford, Kansas Poet

North of Liberal, roads run straight–
roads that rise and fall
where everyone assumes the land is flat,
the rise so gradual you don’t know you’ve
crested a hill until the land stretches away
into a misty panorama of blue-brown prairie.

North of Garden City, stone fenceposts
wrapped with barbed wire
dot the land where wood was scarce
but stone was abundant. Farmers etched
ruts into the rock, winter’s water and ice
split the rocks into sandstone pillars.

North of Wichita, I walk along a two-rut track
as the forever wind blows spring-green grass sideways.
The ruts lead to the horizon. The tall-grass prairie
dances with fresh spring blooms–coneflowers,
black-eyed Susans, butterfly weed, chicory.
The old ruts end, swallowed up, erased by time.



 

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