droughtGrass burns blond.

Tree leaves droop.

Old men with gardens

douse azaleas with spouted cans.


Corn in the garden

died a while back,

stands skeletal

yellow, hard cracked.


People rush home

through brown haze to huddle in.

Evening, a hush falls along sidestreets.

Tire swings sway empty.

Published by

Patrick Dobson

Patrick Dobson was founded in 1962. He is a writer, scholar, ironworker, and poet who lives in Kansas City, MO. He is author of two books with the University of Nebraska Press, Seldom Seen: A Journey into the Great Plains (2009) and Canoeing the Great Plains: A Missouri River Summer (May 2015). Dobson is a work in progress until termination.

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