Kicking up Stones

The white picket fence sags
resigned, grey

bright, bobbing gardens shriveled
to hide in parched beds

chickens ceased scratching
dogs stopped chasing
creek bullfrogs quit courting

dry, dirty dustdevils
keep whirling
kicking up stones

black phone lines snake
across a dim horizon
writhing to nowhere

whipped

by an angry prairie wind
that still wails

inside

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