A sense of sagebrush
and the emptiness
that those without wisdom can't intone;
faint scent of human habitation
where poplars lift their limbs
to reach the breeze.
A barn stands there alone,
a dot of brown that draws the eye
to search this barren -scape of dust
for animals that once roamed here,
that have only left their bones
and little else.
The fields now rest like tarnished gold.
False hope that something precious
this way comes
across the blank horizon.
Eastern Washington has some empty areas east of Moses Lake. Leavenworth, which is so much NOT like this was quite pretty. Original in "Washington Highway 21. Back home."
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