By Richard Luftig
I.
Empty roads arrow
Away from center of town.
Wind cracked cottonwoods.
II.
Once full fields now caked
With draught. Mud-cracked plats where old
Dreams have come to die.
III.
Whiskers of wheat beards.
Corn. Places that pride themselves
Center of nowhere.
IV.
Wind your only friend.
Lone constant that has your back
When all else is gone.