CROSSING KANSAS BY TRAIN <br /> <br />The telephone poles <br />Have been holding their <br />Arms out <br />A long time now <br />To birds <br />That will not <br />Settle there <br />But pass with <br />Strange cawings <br />Westward to <br />Where dark trees <br />Gather about a <br />Water hole this <br />Is Kansas the <br />Mountains start here <br />Just behind <br />The closed eyes <br />Of a farmer’s <br />Sons asleep <br />In their work clothes <br /> <br />POEM TO BE READ AT 3 A.M. <br /> <br /> <br />Excepting the diner <br />On the outskirts <br />The town of Ladora <br />At 3 A.M. <br />Was dark but <br />For my headlights <br />And up in <br />One second-story room <br />A single light <br />Where someone <br />Was sick or <br />Perhaps reading <br />As I drove past <br />At seventy <br />Not thinking <br />This poem <br />Is for whoever <br />Had the light on<br /><br />Donald Justice<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/american-sketches/
