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