These are the quarries where huge skeletons of Miocene mammals were discovered in a terrible die-off.
Autumn on the prairie–still full of burrowing creatures, flocks of birds, raptors, and the coyote crossing the road at an unworried trot.
Seed has flown. Or big excitement for a day is a herd of cattle being driven behind the house.
As to writing, it’s a poem a minute out here for those who are waiting.
Some things are lost–summer, my childhood, languages, more than one way of life, maybe even my somewhat cynical idealism about my country.
Some things remain.